


Horrors and Beauties of War

by DanielHorcic



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: 20th Century, Alternate Universe - World War I, Camarilla (Motherland: Fort Salem), Canon Compliant, Depression, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance Novel, Slow Burn, Somewhat, The Cession (Motherland: Fort Salem), Unofficial Sequel, War, Witches, World War I, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielHorcic/pseuds/DanielHorcic
Summary: Not your usual MFS fanfic.This is more of prequel-ish fanfic, which is set around a question "What if the reason Scylla being the one to extract her was not random, but there is an actual history between Collars and Ramshorns."To be precise, the history is a Great War time.After three years of neutrality, United States joins the Great War on the side of the Entente. Both the Human and Witch Army of the United States are to take place in the conflict.Unit of young witches - Valkyrie Collar, Amya Bellweather and Bria Craven - among ten thousand of privates who have just finished Basic, are now to be shipped off to the European continent to fight on both the Western and Eastern fronts of the conflict.Amidst the horrors of the Great War, Valkyrie meets energetic, fascinating and mysterious young Necro witch of a name of Esmee Ramshorn, she shows her that there not only horrors but also beauties of the war.
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather & Tally Craven & Raelle Collar & Scylla Ramshorn - Ancestors, Abigail Bellweather&Raelle Collar&Scylla Ramshorn, Raelle Collar Ancestor/Scylla Ramshorn Ancestor, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 31
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PS: I know that it may be stupid to have the unit be exactly the same as in the show itself, when this should be a "prequel", but I think that such event would be very possible due to how the Witch Army matrilines work.
> 
> Either way, let me know what you think of this fanfiction of mine.  
> This is my first ever big fanfic, and I am very excited to writing it. I have a general idea where the story should go, but we will see how it goes.  
> Also, I am not sure how often I will be able to update it, because of my very busy schedule, but I will do my best to write and update it as often as possible.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. Feel free to comment and share your opinion on this work.
> 
> May Goddess bless you all.

Valkyrie stands in front of the window in her shared room in the dorm. The spring sun shines into the interior on the room. Early morning cold air is blowing inside. There is a certain beauty in the whole morning scenery. Valkyrie sees it, she is somewhat fascinated by the atmosphere of that early morning.  
She sees the beauty in it, as it looks like the calm before a storm.

Amya Bellweather, the High Atlantic, the member of American elite of the witch society, despite being the almighty High Atlantic, at the end a very fine lass, is sleeping soundly on the upper bank of the double bed. She knows what a true leader of the Unit should do, and she acts and behaves accordingly. The biggest inspiration of all, being Jem Bellweather, the Lioness of Juarez, Amya does her best to give the best performance at every presented opportunity. A classical, opportunistic Bellweather, what else to except.

Bria Craven, a charismatic young witch, who excels in the witch art of Knowing, is sleeping on the bottom beneath Amya. She, despite coming from a matrifocal compound, at it has been a tradition for the entire Craven matrilineage since the signing of the Salem Accord, is not at all naive about what the Witch Army stands for and what it requires from all of them. She did not join in out of curiosity, but because of a patriotic duty which she felt for her country and the legacy created by General Alder herself in the year 1692.

“What are you doing up, huh?” A voice asks and Valkyrie jumps a bit as she does not expect any of the girls waking up as soon as she does.

“Hey, Bria,” she says turning from the window and looks at the sleepy redhead, who blinks and yawns while trying to focus on the fully awake shorthaired blondie. “I am very sorry to wake you up, Red. I did not mean to do such a thing. I just cannot sleep, y’know?”

“Of course, of course,” the red says, now somewhat more awake. “I am the one who listens to your either weeping or talking out of the sleep, it depends on your mood, I reckon. What are you doing up so early though? You haven’t had any nightmare, right?” She is right, Valkyrie suffers from a lot of nightmares, and Bria is the one who always helps her from them.

A year it is 1917, three years into the European Continental War, as the Americans call the conflict between the Central Powers and the Entente. America, however, remains out of the conflict, despite having one of the strongest standing military forces, both human and of the witches, in the worlds. The only other unified army to American Witch Army is the french L'Armée Des Sorcières, which is the only witch military force on the European continent. There are things such as material support of the Entente powers, or sending of, human, military advisers to the front lines of both Europe and Africa by the Americans. But nothing else. Officially, the States remain neutral in both European and African affairs of war.

She ignores the asked question. Instead, she speaks of something else. “Graduation is coming. It is closer and closer. Weeks away now?” Valkyrie states, unable to smile innocently. “I am sure we will graduate, we will go to War College and we will rise and rise in the Army. As a good patriot should.”

“I would expect such kind of speech from Amya, but not you,” Redhead says, chuckling. “Do you, maybe, aim to be the unit leader, instead of her Majesty?”

“Me? A shitty Healer? Not a chance, plus as you have surely noticed in the past year, I am a terrible leader. I love to heal people, however.” Collar says, with her hands slowly moving up and down on her long braided blonde hair.

“You love to play Goddess. I know it. Amya knows. You know it. Everyone does. You love to be the one to have the ability to cheat the death itself. I admire that.”

“There is not much to admire,” Valkyrie says, lifting the nightdress above her breasts, uncovering a nasty scar – a scar done by a scourge. She got this after healing of a fellow soldier during the second month of the Basic, as the girl hurt herself during the scourge training and there was need of immediate action, waiting for the healers to come from the hospital wing was out of the question.

“I know of the scar, Val. I was there, we all were. When the healers finally came, you were laying there instead of the girl. And they had you taken to the hospital wing in her place, as she was healed by you.” In the way of how the redhead spoke of the event, she was proud of her sister. Very proud of her. That was an absolutely reasonable thing to, in fact, once Valkyrie awoke from the long sleep in the hospital bed, she found herself in a company of Drill-Sergeant Christine Chavez and the Healer-Sergeant Rachel Bennet, who both saluted her proudly as a homage for her dangerous, yet brave action.

“It was a dangerous action,” a voice said from the upper bank. “But I am very proud of you.” Amya’s voice could be hardly even heard as she was talking into a pillow, but both Valkyrie and Bria heard her. “Just for your information, and my sake, graduation comes in a week. Try not to fail until then, we had gotten so far.” She continues speaking into the pillow. “Now, silence and go back to sleep again. We have a hard day ahead of us. You need to sleep, both of you.” Amya would say something more, but she did not. Because as she was about to, the morning bells began to ring the melody of theirs, the melody hated by every and all witch in Fort Salem. “Goddess!” That was all that Amya says in all the annoyance as she hears the terrible ringing sounds repeating themselves.

“Sorry,” both Valkyrie and Bria said in unison. They both feel slightly bad for waking their sister.

After a morning of listening to Amya’s complains about how Val makes it impossible for her to get at least a decent amount of sleep each day, all three of them carried on with their daily routine.  
Morning field exercise. Breakfast. Battle seed sounds exercise. Scry seed sounds exercise. Healing exercise. Lunch. Every day, there was the same thing. Over and over again. Accompanied by constant shouting of the Drill-Sergeants, of course.

“If you really want to go to the War College, you have to show better. Much better,” Amya shouts as she watches her sisters performing the seed sounds of war, specifically wind-strikes. The strikes and more advanced offensive Works were a speciality of Amya, but if the unit wanted to get to the War College, they needed to show the best performance possible.  
They all know it, but so too, all three of them knew that they are good at and at what not.

Amya is the just and righteous leader and a Blaster.  
Bria is the cheerful sunshine, a realist and a Knower.  
Valkyrie is a Healer, a Fixer, who wants to see the combat as soon as possible, despite wanting to rise in the ranks.

They are all different, in both the matter of their range of Work and the range of their Humanity. But that is exactly what unites them. What makes them who they are. The unit.

Day after day went by. Until, finally, there it is.

The Graduation day.

After a year, all the recruits who had gone through a year of Basic would go to the War College, and those who would fail the Basic are expected to be thrown to a meat-grinder that was there the petty wars, such the Separatist War in Alaska, or the still ongoing Mexican-Texas skirmishes, which had been going on since the middle 19th century when Mexicans tried to usurp the Republic of Texas from the United States, or the conflicts in Middle and South Americas.  
These petty wars and skirmishes were not of huge importance, for the world, but for America they were essential. They were fought so the United States were either spared from spreading of separatistic tensions, as it was in Alaska and in Texas. And so they had naval and regional supremacy over all of the Americas, that is why they fought in Middle and South Americas. Those who failed the Basic would be sent to fight and die in one of these petty conflicts.

“Something is not alright,” Bria says. They are preparing for the Graduation ceremony, as the day finally comes, but something feels off. There is too much tension in the air. The officers of high command are behaving unusually.

Even Alder, from the small amount of time they notice her at all, seem off. Every time they see her, she is on an edge, angry, kind of desperate. Something is not alright for sure. But none of them knew what it might be. Later that day, when the total amount of ten thousand witches is assembled on the graduation yard, it is not a graduation atmosphere they all expect. Instead, it is dark, depressive atmosphere.

General Alder is standing on a small wooden boost in the ceremonial war uniform, with Biddies at her side, dressed the same way. In front of her, there are members of the War College, the General Staff, the Sergeants, the High Command of the Witch Army.  
They are all there. Every last one of them wearing a ceremonial war uniform.  
Behind them, ten thousand privates is standing in attention, waiting for commands. Faces of every member of the High Command are dark, quiet and without much emotion.

Everyone is looking straight at General Alder on the boost. General takes a deep breath, then she speaks. “I have just returned from the White House,” General begins, “Congress, under urges of the public after receiving news of five American merchant ships being sunk by German submarines, despite the ships being of the merchant class and the Unites States themselves being neutral to the European War, supports the decision of President Wilson to declare a state of war upon German Empire and its allies of the alliance of Central Powers. With an immediate effect, both Human and Witch Army are to begin transport to ports of our allies of the British Empire and the Republic of France, Empire of Russia and their satellites.” Alder herself speaks without slowing down, even once, she says it will the calm of voice which you would expect from her. She is used to such speeches, after the centuries of her life during which she had led witches into various wars.

But the same calmness is not present among the rest of witches. The young privates are scared. Some are crying, weeping, gasping. Other are whispering among themselves what to do, what to expect, how and what exactly they should tell their families.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The American Witch Arny and regular Human Army arrives to France, where they are to join the Entente forces on the front lines. 
> 
> No-one knows what awaits any of them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here you have the second chapter.  
> Hope you will like it, kudos and comment are highly appreciated. Thanks for them.  
> And thank you for almost 150 reads on the first chapters. I hope you likes the premiere chapter, and will like this one too.  
> Nest chapter in 2 weeks. I have very busy schedule and I cannot keep it up, sorry about that but there is not much I can do about it  
> I know it is a slow start, but it will kick off, don't worry.
> 
> PS: I have done some research and discovered that, for some yet unknown reason, Great War in MFS 'verse lasts from 1908 to 1911. Keep in mind that my fanfic takes place during the time of our-worldly Great War. There are witches of course, but the events are the same or slightly altered (We will get to the alteration in future chapters).

_Dear Mama, dear Papa,  
It is not easy to talk about this. I was to graduate from the Basic and go the War College, as you both have, but as you have surely heard by now, we are going to war. In a day or two, me, my Unit and ten thousand of my fellow soldiers will be boarding ships, together with tens of thousands of human soldiers, as we will be on the way to the front lines of the conflict on the European continent. I know very well that you wanted for me to be as far as possible from the front lines, you didn’t want me to be as my sister, but it is not possible anymore. Now, we are all in this together, and we are fighting for something much greater than the Mexican Cession or the uprisings in Alaska, we are fighting for the fate of the world itself.  
I do not know what to expect in Europe, both from the country of France and the front lines onto which we are to be deployed, what I do know, however, is that you should not be worried about me. I have God and Goddess above me, I shall not die in the war, I will come back to you._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Your Valkyrie._

As Valkyrie is finishing the letter, Bria is looking over her shoulder, in all her Craven-ish innocence. Her mood and facial expression are not as happy as usual, however. Instead, she is silent, thoughtful, focused, sad.

Bria’s mood is understandable, of course. Ever since the war declaration announcement, Bria is in terrible sadness, she does write her own letter, as Valkyrie does, and Amya will too. But unlike Amya’s expression of gratitude and satisfaction as she can prove her leadership prowess, and Valkyrie’s assurance of her family that she will come back, Bria’s letter is filled with sadness, fear, and worries as she realizes that she is to go to an unknown land, to fight against an unknown enemy. She fears death, she fears the war itself.

“I wish I had such a strong mind. Such devotion to myself and my abilities, as you and Amya have,” she whispers to Val. “Thinking about the people who were on the merchant ships makes me feel sick. They were innocent people, who were transporting toys. TOYS! To France and Britain. And they sank them. That is cruel. Very cruel.”

“World is sick and cruel, Bria. As well as the people are. That is simply how it is. And we have to accept this reality, and adapt to it. Otherwise, it consumes us.” Amya says to her sister matter-of-factly. And she is correct, of course. But for someone like Bria, this reality is hard to accept, as she and her who matrilineage has been raised in matrifocal communities, which are peaceful farmer societies, most of the time.

The world was simply too cruel of a place for someone like Bria.

The next day, all of the rooms of the Privates’ barracks of Fort Salem, are empty. From the one at the beginning of the building to the last room, of the farthest corner of the barrack. Completely empty. Hollow walls, One bunk bed and one standard military bed, three small night-tables, one big wardrobe and one window with a pentagram on it. All of the beds were nicely done, the pillow and duvet perfectly placed over them.

Everything is so perfectly prepared.

And yet, there is something missing.

The girls. All ten thousand of them, there is not but a single one of them. The only ones who stayed in the Fort Salem are the Drill-Sergeants, who are expecting a flow of new Privates soon.

Meanwhile, Bellweather Unit, and the Ten Thousand, together with General Sarah Alder herself, and human soldiers of strength a hundred thousand, are boarding troopship fleet. The fleet is accompanied by both American and Canadian warships to ensure its safety on the way to shores of France.

“If I knew I have seasickness, I would have never stepped onto a ship like this,” Bria says. Green in her face as grass in the Fort Salem. They are on the way for _only_ two days, and most of the girls on the ship on which Bellweather Unit is, already regret enduring this kind of transport.

“We know. We know,” Valkyrie says to her, holding her hair up as she throws up like she was doing for the whole day ever since they found themselves on the open sea. “I am sure 90% of the people here would agree with you. I hate it too.”She says quickly.

They, the whole ships of soldiers are. too, experiencing the seasickness. That is one of the hells of the transatlantic voyage. Both armies travel in twenty troopships, each carrying around eight thousand troops, witches and humans combined.

After two weeks full of throwing up, feeling of sickness, low-key depression and somewhat distant behaviour between the witches and humans, the fleet in separated force arrives in three ports of _Le Havre,_ _Calias and_ _Marseille._ _The_ t _ransport with_ Bellweather Unit _ar_ ri _ves in Calias._

“Come and look! Look!”A girl on the upper deck shouts at them. They run up, to he,r from their small room, which is so big that they can fit there only the bed, bunk bed and a small place with a small mirror on the wall. They run out of the room, up the stairway to the girl who is shouting for them. “We are here. Look at that. It is marvellous.” The girl is glowing, her eyes are wide and face shows expressions of absolute happiness as the looks at the port and the Unit. Back and forth. With every look back and forth, she is more excited.

“It is absolutely beautiful,” Bria shouts so they can hear her over the noises of the steamship and the closing noises of the port.

As almost all the witches, and the humans too, are present on the ship gather on the upper deck to see the beauty of french port, General Alder herself comes among them. She takes stand in the front of the ship, alongside the human general of the army, in front of all the present soldiers.

“In a matter of minutes, we will dock in the port of Calias. From there, we will advance through trains, in separate formations, to front lines. Remember, we fight here for the fate of the world. Never, ever, forget that you are here as soldiers of the Army of the United States of America. Even in a time of war, you are excepted to behave representatively. Fight with storm and fury!”

As she finishes the speech, there are loud noises of boots hitting the ship’s floor as the witches are stomping. The human soldiers are shouting their _Hurrah_ loud and clear. The ship is filled with a lot of emotions, as Alder is watching the soldiers, she cannot resists but to smile.

Determined soldiers, that is what she loves to see. Seeing her _daughters_ in this war-trance is pleasing her. It shows that she and her Drill-Sergeants are doing their job well. Someone way too much, sometimes less, but still.

It is proof that Alder is a _good mother_ to them.

Hours and hours pass after the troops are disembarked, together with the equipment of all kinds. The equipment is loaded on a series of trains, which are not on way to the front lines, but to various parts of it rather.

Bellweather Unit, three hundred units, and couple thousands human soldiers are dispatched to a surrounding area of a village of Messines. The village itself is not big, but it is a strategic position for the Entente forces, it is necessary for the offence which was being prepared against the Central Powers, which is further to enable the Entente an advance to Belgian coastline.

The area around the Messines itself, which is separated by a bridge into two parts, is mile by mile of the land, inhabitable.Both sides of the bridge are covered in mud, there is only destroyed land, miles of _no man’s land_ in between of trench lines and the only connection between the two sides – the bridge itself. Toxic flora, no fauna to be found in the _no man’s land –_ there are only barded wires, holes done by mortar fire and dead body upon a dead body. No one clears them away, as they are either in the middle of the _no man’s land_ or in the river itself. They are simply left to rot in the mud and dirt.The terrible, unbearable smell of death is noticeable in the village itself, despite it being a couple of miles away from the actual trench lines.

“Why there aren’t any animals? And what the hell is this horrible smell all around us?” Bria says as the army walks through the village. The french do not look at the witches hatefully, as for example, the Mexican soldiers do as they themselves do not posses any kind of a witch army. No, the french look at them as saviours, a long-needed help.

“The smell? Those are the dead. Thousands and thousands dead.” a young human soldier, who walks alongside them,says. Bria looks at him first, then onto her sisters. She is disgusted at the realization. Disgusted and scared. “The animals?” young Frenchman continues. “Soldiers, and the few civilians who are here, ate them. All of them. Rations are scarce, we eat what we find. _Bienvenue à la guerre!_ ” He finished talking to her with a french sentence.

“ _Bienvenue à la guerre,_ ” Amya repeats the phrase after the young man walks away from them. “Bastard. He thinks this is funny,” she states, earning confused looks by both Valkyrie and Bria. “It means _Welcome to the war_. He actually welcomed us to this place.”

“French… Cynical bastards. Goddess damn these frog-eaters.” Valkyrie declares. Unfortunately way too loud, and so General Alder herself hears her and turns at her. As General turns, Valkyrie’s heart stops.

“Calm down, Collar,” General laughs her off, which confuses Collar and surprises her, as she would never imagine the General being even remotely capable of such a thing as a laugh. “I felt exactly the same as you do, when I met the French people for the first time, during the Revolutionary times. They are Cynical, but that is how they always have been. Oh, and you are correct, Collar, they actually eat frogs.” At the comment, Valkyrie cringes and Alder laughs again.

They continue walking.

Pass improvised buildings built for soldiers – those were long wooden structures which were not high, but rather deep as they were built in the underground, then there is a stone made building around which four pillars are built, on each of them there is a white flag with a red cross – that is a field lazaret. As explained by overhearing of whispers of present British soldiers, the underground sections of the soldiers’ quarters, went deep so that there were multiple layers of them so a lot of soldiers could live inside, and they lead directly to the trench-lines. This connection serves two purposes: First, soldiers can be easily transferred to the front lines if needed, and second, the wounded can be easily brought through the tunnels from the trenches to the lazarets.

An effective style of architecture, perfect for the present trench-and-position-warfare.

Another building which they pass, well not a building per se, but rather a huge tent, is the joint high-command of the Messines Front. A group of men came out of the tent-building. Two of them wearing light-blue ceremonial uniforms, both of the men are accompanied by two bodyguards. “That is General of the _L'_ _A_ _rmée_ _D_ _es_ _S_ _orcières_ , André Portier,” Amya whispers to her _sisters_ , gesturing with her head to a man whose bodyguards have swords hanging around their waists.“The other one is General Joseph Dior, of the Human French Army.”

Human Generals of both America and France begin to talk with each other, as they leave Alder and the Privates on their own. Valkyrie looks around. The Biddies are standing at attention behind Alder, the are rather analytically watching General Portier and his two bodyguards. The biddies had reason to observe the French General – He was young, unusually young for holding of a position of the highest rank official of the French Witch Military. He looked in his late twenties, thirty years of age at most. Even Alder with her immorality is in her forties in appearance.

There is certainly something mysterious about Portier.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyrie spends time on healing duty, there she receives a vision of enemies' plans and she needs to act on it.   
> She also sees a mysterious girl in the vision, the image of the mysterious woman stays on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.   
> Once again, I kinda apologise for the slow burn-ish start, but I really think the slow burn is necessary to bring up the proper atmosphere for this story. 
> 
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.   
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section. 
> 
> PS: If want, feel free to follow me on my Instagram @danielhorcic_wattpad or/and my Twitter @danielhorcic.

Every day, day after day, there is the same routine.

Get up from a shitty bed in the underground sleeping place. Climbing up to the surface. Getting a shitty breakfast, if it can be called like that. After that, _Blasters_ and _Knowers_ go to the front lines, they go through the underground tunnels straight to the trench networks.

The _Blasters_ engage the enemy with their Work, while the _Knowers_ serve either to them or to Human marksmen by using of their Work of revealing to located positions of enemies.

  
There is a certain symbiosis between the Blaster and Knowers and the human soldiers. They found a way how to help each other, how to cooperate, how to use the best of both species in an advantage over their enemy.  
Thanks to the precise work of the Knowers, every attack is discovered before it is made manifest. They see every and all those who try to pass the bridge between the two sides of the river.   
Thanks to _Blasters_ , the river is impossible to be crossed, as there are small water tornadoes which kill everything that gets into the water. Thus the only way for the enemy is over the bridge – which is covered by _Knowers_ and Human Marksmen.  
Every attempt of the Germans to cross the bridge or the river ends up in a display of a _dance of deat_ _h –_ a pointless, meaningless, useless waste of lives, which however repeats itself every morning.

And fails every time. It is like that third week in a row.

Duties of the Healers are not as exciting and close to actual combat, however, they are much more draining, both physically and mentally, and they are equally important as the duties on the front lines. Because, those wounded and in need of some medical support are always there, and they never stop coming.

Valkyrie spends time in the field lazaret, among American, English and French Healers. She is in her natural habitat, among the sick and dying. Despite it sounding disgusting, this is exactly where she belongs. Because there she can provide the needed help. She can actually do something for her fellow soldiers.

She is on the first floor of the lazaret.

Shouts, weeps, cries and prayers of the soldiers are resonating through the entire first floor. The human nurses are doing their best to not go crazy from all the noises, and occasional weather storms which form from the rampant variety of emotions of witches. All that is accompanied by endless roaring of the heavy artillery, it roars by day and night, as if its munition is endless and always available.

The shells and the blast upon their impact never stop delivering their ear-reaping sounds.   
It is an orchestra which accompanies the dance of death in the land in between the trenches.

“It hurts, fucking hell, it hurts so much.” A soldier, an Englishman, shouts on full lungs. He lies on the bed, his white shirt ripped on several spots, which is revealing his strong chest and belly.

Valkyrie runs to him, in her blue uniform with a white armband with a red cross on it. She looks at the man, he has scars over his body. Cuts from mortar shells, most likely. Deeper wounds on belly and chest, mere scars and bruises on hands and legs.

“Nurse!” Valkyrie shouts at a woman in a white dress, she is a human nurse, who has been running around giving the soldier syringes morphine to ease their pains. She turns at me, slightly worries what I am about to ask of her. “Yes, You. Come here and talk to the soldier while I heal him. Do you understand?” She nods quickly and comes to us.

She looks first at his tags, then the nurse speaks to him. “You are going to be alright, Colonel, Marrah,” she says. “Tell me, where are ye from, soldier?” The nurse has a pleasant voice, kind and a bit fast, yet very charming it is. Exactly what the soldier needs to be calmed down.

“I am from London. But parents are from Essex. They are country folk, but I am as much of a city guy as it is possible.” He laughs at that.

“That is charming. I am from-” She starts but the man finishes for her by saying “Scotland”. She narrows her eyes at him in surprise. Meanwhile, the healer is holding her hands pressed against man’s chest and belly, doing the healing _Work_ with the learned _Seed._ During the time of the Basic, Valkyrie had learned to master the Healing Seed so well, that it no longer makes her take parts of the healed wounds onto herself, that is one of her biggest accomplishments of the Basic. That and her first-ever, properly celebrated, _Beltane_ and _Samhain_.

The nurse gets out of the surprised gaze, and speaks again, “How did ye ken that?”

“I may be a city boy, but I have travelled a lot. Scotland, too.” He explains. I am listening to their conversations while singing the Seed. “Aahh, God! That hurts! Fucking hell!” the man shouts as I am continuing with the healing. The Scottish nurse grabs Colonel's hand and squeezes it tightly. It seems to calm him again. After a moment of Colonel’s shouting and nurse’s sweet-talking, Valkyrie steps back from the man as she removes her hands from his body.

“There, you are okay now,” Valkyrie says, her voice slow, her energy drained by the healing, despite she doesn’t take even the slightest bit of the injury onto herself. “Nurse, my work here is done. You now take care of the Colonel, give him what he wants or needs, he is your responsibility now.”

“Aye, Healer.” Nurse says, giving the soldier, who is still holding her hand, an innocent smile.

As Healer is walking away, feeling all drained up but good about the healing of the soldier, she hears him asking the nurse _“Are you a witch?_ _Because I would like to ask you out, but_ _you know,_ _mixed_ _relationships_ _are for_ _bidden_ _by_ _Acts of Union._ _”_ The nurse laughs him off, saying that despite her being Scottish, she is not a witch, thus they can go out.

_P_ _athetic Humans_ , Valkyrie thinks to herself, but in reality, she finds beauty in what she just overheard. Valkyrie is jealous of people who have it so easy to fall for someone, she doesn’t have it like that. Well, she had, once. Sometime after her enlistment, during Beltane. But, that was a long time ago.

Healer goes to a restroom of the lazaret. She steps in front of a small mirror and a bowl with water. She washes her dirty hands. In fact, her entire body is dirty and disgusting, skin sucked up with drops of blood and its smell too, skin damaged by the endless healing of the wounded and subsequent washing of all the dirt. She looks at herself, the messed up long braided hair of hers, the hands, the fingers… the face… all of her. She feels disgusted by herself.

That is what only a couple of weeks on the front lines had caused her – they made her hate herself and be disgusted by herself. The reason why she hates herself is rather simple, she is in the lazaret for the third week, while Bria and Amya are on the front lines, keeping the enemy on their side of the land. She hates herself for not being there with them, she wishes to be there, but she cannot, she is not allowed to. Healers are needed in the lazaret, not on the front lines, there is enough of them already.

Valkyrie understands the logic in it, and she respects the decision of General Alder, but at the same time, she wishes she could be there with her sisters.

But she cannot. She has to be in the lazaret. She has to take care of those who are in need. But her unit needs her too. And she is unable to help them. It is a thing which has been consuming her from inside.

To clear her head, she walks out of the building, she is finally breathing clean air, untainted by the smell of blood, inflammation, pus and death. No. Outside, there is finally a clear air. Finally a chance to breathe normally. She is finally able to think straight, at least until a nurse runs for her, calling at her that her healing _Work_ is required.

She walks underneath one of the pillars on which flies a white flag with a massive red cross. She looks onto the flag, then to her own armband with a red cross, then to the distance in front of her. Sun is slowly but surely falling behind the horizon, that means two things.   
Either, that they – the Entente soldiers and witches – will attack the enemy or the enemy will attack them. An attempt of a surprise attack – the base of the position warfare – depending on a prediction that the enemy is not yet recovered from the last attack, which failed but had cost him dearly.

Staring into the distance, Valkyrie’s vision becomes a blur, all begins to turn black around her. She is afraid. She closes eyes despite seeing nothing and quickly opens them again. But what she sees is not the place on which she was standing seconds ago. Instead, what she sees are trenches – the front lines, but of the enemy. She sees plans on the table in the command bunker. “ _Gas._ _Bloody hell!_ _The bastards_ _are going to drop_ _gas-shells onto us._ _Not even the witches will able to defend us from that._ ” She hears the voice within her head, it is a voice of the British Colonel. She sees and heard everything that he had seen and heard, he was spying onto the enemy during the night, he somehow managed to get into the German lines and he discovered the plan of next attack.

Next thing what Valkyrie sees is a shadow, a shadow moving, walking around, inside the bunker. As she shadow walks into a light of an oil lamp, Valkyrie sees that it is a woman, not older than herself, about the same height as her, too. The woman has short messy hair and wears something that resembles a uniform, but it is not recognizable to whom does it belongs to. As she, through Colonel’s eyes, looks at the shadow-girl, everything goes black again.

She cannot see anything once more. And before she knows it, she is once again standing underneath the flag pillar. Confused, disoriented, she looks around. Making sure she is really herself, she slaps herself once. As the flash of pain goes through her cheek, she knows she is herself.

Valkyrie doesn’t loose time. The thinks. Quickly. What to do.

There is no time to discuss this with General Alder or General Portier. She has to act, and so she decided to act. To save her sisters. All of them.

S he runs to the  barracks building. To her underground  _cell_ .  To a small  wooden box underneath a  hard pillow of her ‘bed’.  _Salva_ . She needs  _Salva_ .  A  herbal substance,  which upon contact with skin,  goes into the system, and functions as a drug – not addictive, but there is a possibility of overdosing – which  enables American witches to  fly  in relative heights for  certain period of t ime.  But in o r der for Valkyrie to get to the front lines in time, she needs more than one piece, and so she takes for them. 

She runs to the surface again, and when she stands outside the barracks she hears the sounds of whistles. That is it! The sign of an attack. At once, she applies all four doses onto her neck. They suck into the skin, her eyes turn ocean blue and she feels how her legs leap from the ground. Her, now fragile, the body is flying in the air. She no longer feels the gravity dragging her down to the earth, she is levitating. 

As well as she is, her emotions too are in the air. She is terrified, scared, worried and much more. Her emotions are reflected in the effects of the _Salva,_ _because despite knowing how to use it–, she was_ _one of_ _the best_ _with it during Basic, –_ _she is not absolutely incapable of_ _flying with_ _it properly._ _She rampant emotions maker her body be_ _uneasy going in the air,_ _but once she gets herself at least a bit under control, she moves_ _in the direction of the front lines._

She moves fast,  speaking to herself in the process.  In reality, it is more of praying than talking, but still.  She flies above the trench-lines.  She sees everything from the skies.  The tornadoes in the river,  the bridged,  pilled with dead  bodies, the dead and rotting in the no man’s land,  the  trench-lines of both sides .

S he looks around,  trying to look for the artillery but she doesn’t see any in the close proximity.  Then, the  attack signal  of a whistle pierces her ears again.  After that,  artillery roars,  in a great orchestra of unbearable  screams,  and the shells begin to rain from the sky. 

O ne. Two. Three. Impact. 

And upon it, a  fog of  yellow gas spreads to all directions. 

T hat is it.  The gas. 

_T_ _hey have not_ _hit the lines yet_ ,  Valkyrie thinks _._ But she cannot wait for them to do so.  Still flying, she opens her mouth, and begin to sing a Seed Sound.  The wind  appears,  slow at first, but  it quickly gains  speed.  She makes the wind to blow into the side of the enemy.  And it works.  The wind flows onto the enemy,  slowly  talking the gas with it.

“It is a gas! They are dropping a gas! _Blasters_ , help me!” Her voice roars though the wind and gathering storm. 

A  storm and fury gather within the  trenches beneath her  as all the blasters obey hear d command.  Wind and Storm gather  and form  in the _no man’s land_ .  Valkyrie  looks underneath her.  What she sees  are Blasters in their fury,  Knowers in their  focus, Humans soldiers in their fear and awe, but also  something else –  she sees  moving  shadows .  Shadow-Figures  are moving through the no man’s land, seemingly not affected by the gas or really anything present there, they are just moving through there… for whatever reason.

Being too distracted by the focus on the Seed Sound, and the moving Shadows, she does look in front of herself. She doesn’t look at the enemy’s lines.  And the enemy takes an advantaged of that.  
Three shots make a sound.  Hearing them, she finally looks in their direction. But it is too late.  The shots hit her,  all three of them, to the chest.  On  _Salva_ or not, her motionless body falls  to the ground.

Dropping into the mud and dirt, she hears a crack of bones.  And before the world  shuts itself  into the darkness  around her,  all she sees is a shadow-figure  of a woman in  unrecognizable  uniform  kneeling next to he r, whispering to her,  _“Vous allez être bien. Accroche toi juste. Tu seras bien.”_

  
  


  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.  
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.  
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section.
> 
> And I want to give huge thanks to my corrector and beta-reader @InetaEstera, who is so kind as to spend her free time reading my work.

“ _Pour le repos, le plaisir du militaire,  
Il est là-bas à deux pas de la forêt  
Une maison aux murs tout couverts de lierre  
‘Aux Tourlourous’ c'est le nom du cabaret.  
La servante est jeune et jolie  
Légère comme un papillon.  
Comme son vin son œil pétille,  
Nous l'appelons la Madelon  
Nous en rêvons la nuit, nous y pensons le jour,  
Ce n'est que Madelon mais pour nous c'est l'amour”_

A sweet feminine voice sings the song. Slowly, thoughtfully, beautifully. The voice echos through the room. If there was not the singing, the place would be covered in an unbearable silence, a silence which causes soldiers to lose their mind after some time. Luckily it was not the case in this particular room. The beautiful voice made sure of that.

But the singing is not all there was. There is another voice, too. A whisper that is. A whisper which repeats itself. Calling out. “Wake up! You have to wake up!” It calls, interrupting the feminine singer.

Now they are talking over each other. The singing over the whisper, the whisper over the singing. Over and over again. Until the whisper begins to be louder and louder. Until it is not a whisper anymore but much more of a shout.

“Valkyrie, for the love of Goddess! Wake the hell up.” She can finally tell to whom the whispering voice belongs. To her sister. Her biological sister. Sikya Collar. The one and only. The best sister in the world. The one who gained a rank of sergeant after the War College, and after that gained a platoon of healers under her command. “Valkyrie! WAKE UP!”

The voice is loud and clear. And the Healer does as she is commanded to. She wakes up. She opens her eyes in a flash. She looks around. She finds herself on a lazaret bet, in a huge room with other soldiers who are sleeping soundly.

_How did I get here? What happened?_ She asks herself, but she is unable to find an answer.

Oil lamps are the only source of light in the room. The weak light shines onto the walls, creating shadows of various sizes. Other than the lamps, there is no other light source. She sits down slowly, everything hurts her. Only then does she notice that her left arm in bandaged and attached to her torso. That was the cracking sound after the fall – a broken hand.

She begins to remember what happened, piece by piece.

The gas. Her flight. Storm and Fury. Three shots. Fall. The Shadow-girl.

The Shadow-girl. The mysterious person who she had seen twice, never in person, and yet she was very intrigued by her.

Another thought came onto her mind. Sikya and the singing...

Valkyrie looks around. She is searching for the image of her sister. A girl in a blue uniform with insignias of a medical sergeant. But there is no one where. How could there be? Valkyrie knows well that there is no way for her sister to be there, with her, or rather be at all.

“You are finally awake. I was worried you would not wake.” A voice whispers, saying the sentence from all the directions at once. The sweet, charming voice with an accent echoes through the room. It was as if multiple voices are speaking at exactly the same time, the sound of the whisper resonates through the room, straight to Valkyrie.

Valkyrie scans the room with her eyes. On the wall, where the lamps are projecting their weak light, there were grey silhouettes standing. On every wall, there was at least one of them, all with short messy hair, and unrecognizable uniform.

Seeing them, Valkyrie backs away on her bed. Despite the pain in her body, she moves as much to the back as it is possible. She hits her back over a metal structure at the end of the bed.

The expression of the Shadow-girl changes. Until that moment, for whatever amount of time she was there watching her, she was focused and observant. But that changes as she is watching the young healer struggling on the bed.

“Please. Don’t. You will hurt yourself.” Shadows speak again. There is a worry in their voice. Something akin to fear, maybe even slights of care, for Valkyrie that was.

“I have seen you before.” The healer says matter-of-factly. “I saw you in a vision, gained after I healed one of the soldiers. I saw you moving in enemy trench line, then when I fell after they shot me, and now you are here.”

“Yes,” the Shadow confirms, “it was me. I was the one who saved you when you fell into the trench.” The girl pierced Healer with her eyes. “I killed the marksmen who did it to you.”

“I should probably thank you, right?” The Healer states. “So thank you very much.”

“You are welcome, _Belle,_ ” she says. An innocent smile appears on the Shadow-girl’s face. But when she wants to say something more, she notices that loud footsteps are approaching the room. “I have to go, but I will come again when they leave.”

“Wait!” Valkyrie calls out quietly. “What is Your name? Can I at least know the name of my savior?”

“Esmee.” The shadow says before it disappears.

The footsteps are getting close. They are loud and clear. In a split of a second, a Colonel in a medical uniform walks inside, with two young healers, the assistants, at her side. The woman has a decorated uniform but not an American one, the medals are different, she is British. American Healers are on the front lines, mostly, that is why a British woman is walking towards Valkyrie, instead of an American.

“Colonel!” Valkyrie says in a hurry as the woman stops by her bed. She tries to salute to her, but the pain in the entire body does not allow that to happen.

“Don’t bother, Private Collar,” Colonel says immediately as she saw the girl’s struggles to raise her hand for the gesture. “I am not here so you can salute me, I am here to check on you. The wounds you suffered should have been unsurvivable, and yet you are here in front of me. I believe that it is an intervention of higher powers, powers of Goddess herself that are.”The woman is silent for a second, then she spoke in an authoritative tone. “For the fact that you have suffered great injuries and you are not in a condition to think clearly, I shall forgive you for the error made by you about my rank. For your information, my name is Carolyn Sheils, I am the Surgeon-General of the _Royal_ _Witch Army_ and the member of _Royal Witch Council_ of His Majesty, Kings George V.”

Valkyrie’s head spins. She cannot believe it. She had heard many things about, the Royal Witch Council of the British Empire. There were great stories about them all around the States, on the Fort Salem too. And one of the members was standing the only a couple of meters from her. “Ma’am, I.. I,” Valkyrie tries to speak properly, “I apologize so much. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Girl, as I said before, do not bother with that. I told you already, I am not here to make you salute me. I am here to check on you, and subsequently, inform General Alder of your status.” Surgeon-General makes a full examination of Valkyrie’s body, which as it turns out bears marking of entries of three bullets, and many scars caused by the hard impact with the ground.

When the examination is over, one of two assistants goes away and as she comes back, she has General Adler, the Biddies, and Valkyrie’s Unit behind her. All of them surround the bed and they all look at the young Healer. Only then, does she realize that most of the soldiers who were sleeping soundly are wide awake now, and too, watching her every move.

“Private Collar,” Alder declares, “by a commitment of a reckless action which almost resulted in your own death, you have saved lives of ten thousand Human soldiers, and three-hundred-sixty-five lives of your fellow Witches. Under these consequences and under the suggestion of the assembled Front-Council, you are hereby promoted to a rank of a Captain, with an immediate effect. The Witch Army of the United States of America salutes you, Captain Collar.”

Finishing the sentence, General Alder and the Biddies salute to her. Present Surgeon-General, her two assistants, and Valkyrie’s Unit follow the General in the salute. The fully awake soldiers fill the room with their _Hurrah_ to let the young witch know that they salute her too.

Poor Healer is left absolutely speechless. She tries to say at least a T _hank You_ to the General, but she is not able to. That makes the General laughs a bit once again, Biddies too for some reason, that is even more creepy than the General laughing. Then Alder, the British high-ranking officer, and their companions walk away. Now there is only Valkyrie, her Unit, and the male soldiers.

“Men!” Amya calls out and every man, to the last looks at her, “If you behave and give me and my _sisters_ privacy, I will make sure that you have some good cigarettes and booze delivered here. What do you say.” A happy humming and sounds of agreement came from all sides. Thus, despite this was against every and all rules in the military code, privacy for the three witches was achieved by a simple bribe.

But then again, Amya is a Bellweather, she can afford to do such a thing – both literally and rhetorically.

“So,” Bria breaths out and smirks, “how are you feeling, Captain?” She doesn’t resist but to giggle about the fact that her _sister_ was just promoted in the heat of battle.

“I am feeling like shit. Everything hurts, that is for sure. I am just so glad that you are alright. I was so, so worried about both of you. I am just glad you are okay.” Valkyrie cries out and tears begin to drop on the pillow. “I was so scared that something might happen to you.”

“Val. Val. Please. Don’t cry.” Amya says, holding herself from crying. “Goddess take you, Collar. You know how stupid a crying Bellweather looks.”

The comment makes them laugh again. They were happy to be reunited, to be together again, to be safe and sound. That was the most important thing of all.

They talk for some time. About how the war is fucked up. How they wish to receive at least one letter from home. How even the High and Mighty Amya Bellweather is beginning to see that the war is Hell. The fact that she stood there, in the trench-lines, when she saw both the yellow gas and her _sister_ defending them from it, and then seeing her being shot down… dying in the mud. That broke Amya, beyond the capability of a repair. The same had happened to Bria, young Knower is devastated knowing that she should have been the one to foretell this attack, but she failed in the task.

Valkyrie sees the sadness and cluelessness in eyes of both her sisters. And she does the best to confront them, to make them see they did the best they could when they sat by her bed for three days whenever they could. For three days had Valkyrie slept, and that whole time, her two sisters stood guard by her. And surely too, did the Shadow-girl, Esmee. The thought of the days' long guard of theirs brings Valkyrie to a question if they have seen what she had seen during the gas attack – the enormous number of Shadows, which were literally floating the battlefields.

Her sisters confirm to her that they had seen it. They both describe the event as something unbelievable, something unforgettable. With a tone eternal virgin in her voice, which Bria indeed is, despite Beltane- she speaks of a particular young French witch, who kept asking about Valkyrie in the three days of her sleep, but she never paid her a visit, not in person at least.

Valkyrie, to feed of Bria’s virginal interest and to avoid her well-minded pressure, is shares knowledge of this little mystery, and as a matter of fact, she shares having already managed to acquire her name. As she only knows the first name of the mysterious French, she shares only that with her _sister_ _s._ Valkyrie is pretty confident that many French witches could be bearing the name Esmee, thus Bria and Amya should not be able to find the right witch immediately.

In some time, both girls leave, leaving their _sister_ alone for some time, giving her time to sleep, but, unknown to them, she has no intention of sleeping anymore. The only other thing of which she thinks about apart from her _sisters_ is the French witch. The mystery is French Colonel of the name Esmee.

She is laying on the bed, looking onto the blank ceiling, while diving in the deep sea of her mind and thoughts, until a familiar voice saves her from that deep sea. “Are you _free,_ Captain Collar?” A sweet voice with an accent asks. “I can come another time if you wish to sleep.” Valkyrie looks around, to all the sides, searching for the shadow, but she can’t see anything. She assumes it was just her imagination playing with her. A giggle comes out, then a whisper, “I am right here, _Belle_ ” _._ Valkyrie turns to her right and sees the shadow standing next to her, smiling at her.

“Hi there,” Valkyrie says simply, with all her Collar-ish innocence.

Shadow girl looks at her, moves from the wall onto the floor, and now the shadow is standing next to the young witch. Val is watching how in a matter of seconds, the shadow disappears and Esmee materializes in all her physical beauty alongside her.

“Hi.” Esmee greets her back, still smiling at her. Only then does the Healer finally sees what kind of uniform the other woman is wearing. She has a light blue uniform, with insignias of a rank of Colonel and a small leather officer bag over her shoulder. “I am very glad you are awake. I was worried. I was here, watching over you, every day, as much as I could.”

Realizing that she is in a presence of an officer, Valkyrie’s military behavior kicks in. “You shouldn’t have to bother yourself with a Private like me,” Valkyrie manages to say, while she is being way too distracted by a beautiful young French witch in front of her. “I am sure you have much more important matters to deal with than to be here with me, Colonel.”

Esmee chuckles and takes her bag from her shoulder. She opens it and takes out a baguette and a couple of pieces of cheese. She separates the baguette into smaller pieces and together with cheeses places it in front of Valkyrie, who is just staring at her in disbelieve and absolute surprise. “First of all, I am not here as a superior officer, but as a friend,” French girl says calmly. “Secondly, you are not a Private Collar, but a Captain Collar, as you were, on my suggestion, promoted into the rank only an hour ago.” Esmee’s eyes light up as she is watching the American witch slowly, but surely, turning red. “Thirdly, Captain, I have brought you some good food, since I can imagine you are very hungry, and let’s be honest, we both know that lazaret food is not the best.”

“I.. I, should really thank you. Again.” Valkyrie says again, now red as the reddest of apples. “Goddess, I am terrible and gross, after the days of on this bed, I am sorry.” She regrets immediately her appearance, when in a presence of both a superior officer and a very beautiful woman.

“No, you are not,” Esmee says, taking a seat in front of the Healer on a small piece of the bed. “You are beautiful. Very beautiful.” Esmee, without thinking, grabs Healer’s hand. Before the American witch can say a thing or can even get herself from the surprise action of her French counterpart, Colonel Ramshorn sings a seed sound which makes her, and Valkyrie too, leave their material bodies. Now, they are somewhere very different; they are not alive nor dead – they are in between, they are sitting on the bed, they are alone and yet they are not. They are in between, of everything.

Exactly as shadows are, in between the light and the darkness.

Her other hand, Colonel moves to Valkyrie’s head. She touches the back of Valkyrie’s head gently. Without realizing it, Val gives herself fully to the French girl, she is absolutely incapable of resisting her. Esmee moves closer to the Healer, and their lips connect, all Valkyrie manages to do, is to blink.

The kiss is quick, gentle, beautiful, and absolutely unexpected to the Healer.

The French Colonel quickly backs away from the Healer, looking at her, gathering thoughts. “I… I am sorry, Captain,”Colonel pauses again, “Eat the food I brought you. You need to regain strength.”

“Colonel… Wait… I…” But before the Healer is able to finish what she meant to say, the French witch turns herself into a shadow-figure and runs away from the room.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.  
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.  
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section.
> 
> And I want to give huge thanks to my corrector and beta-reader @InetaEstera, who is so kind as to spend her free time reading my work.

Valkyrie spends the next two days in the uncomfortable and terrible lazaret bed before she can attend her duties again.

When she is, with help of her _sisters,_ dressing into the uniform, now with insignias of the rank of Captain, she finally feels like herself. Now, whenever she goes, she is called _Captain_ and she quietly enjoys this new reality.

Thanks to newly acquired rank, she doesn’t have to spend her time in the hospital, but she can instead be present on the front lines as the _Line Healer_ , despite this being optional, she goes to the front every day, alongside Bria and Amya. Because that is what she wants, she wants to be at their side, so she can protect them, and they appreciate her being there too because in an exchange can protect her.

The only thing which is bothering her, and it has been so in the past two days, is the fact that Esmee, after kissing her, for whatever reason, ran away.

Valkyrie keeps thinking of what made French witch kiss her in the first place.

From the year in Fort Salem, and thanks to lectures of Amya about Witch culture, she knows that such thing as an actual love is a but a distant concept. Real love doesn’t exist in the life of a witch, so taking this under consideration, Esmee’s action makes sense. But Valkyrie, for the nature of hers, doesn’t trust this _reality of the life of witches_.

Valkyrie believes in something greater.

She had believed in this _something greater_ once before, and it worked until the accusations came because of which Louise was court-martialed and forced to enter the penal division on Alaska. When that happened faith in everything and everyone, luckily, her sisters got her out of the darkest of times and thoughts.

“Still thinking about that French Colonel?” Amya says while sitting next to me in the trench. We are on patrol duty on the front. It is a late afternoon, and luckily for us, we know that until the night it will be without a problem because daylight engagements are but rare and never even closely successful. “Get it out of your mind, Captain. There will be many other Esmees. Worry not.” She speaks so calmly, so openly, and worst of all, so truthfully. Because, thanks to her Bellweather nature, she knows a great deal about fake relationships, one-night stands, or any other type of short-term relationship. Because Bellweathers live for war, nothing or no-one else.

But Collars? Collars live for people around them. For love itself. For life itself. That is the difference between their matrilines.

Then there is Craven matriline, who lives for both the life and the unity, _sisterhood,_ which the service represents. That makes Bria the middle-ground in between Valkyrie and Amya. The fact that, because of this approach to things, Bria Craven is _untouched_ by beauties of life, is for a completely different discussion.

“We have missed Beltane,” Valkyrie says as her sister gives her a metal flask of water. All Amya does is giving her a confused look. “Beltane? Our only chance of making Bria un-virgined? Your favourite festival? Rings a bell?”

“Goddess,” Amya breaths you, “you are right. Damnit, what are we going to do? About that?”

 _Really? We are in front of a war, literally, and you think of getting laid?_ Valkyrie thinks to herself, but then she realizes that it was she who spoke of it first. “I wish I knew. We just have to hope she finds her way to it until this fucking war ends.”

“I surely hope for that.” Amya laughs. They look at their sister in distance. She, as a _Knower_ , is staying at the back of the lines, there where marksmen are laying the whole day, every day, waiting for some prey to hunt down. “Just so you know that I am not blind, nor absolutely stupid, Collar, I know exactly why you spoke of Beltane. And I will tell you two things. First, forget about Louise, I know it is hard, trust me I do, but you have to, for you own good. And second, give that _French Mystery_ time, maybe she needs to clear her head properly. When she does, she will come to you, you will see.”

“Thank you,” Valkyrie says quietly. All Amya does, is a nod.

“Healer! We need a Healer!” A man from the opposite corner of the line shouts. Duty calls and Valkyrie does not hesitate and runs towards the source of the shouting.

When the man is healed, at the level of basic in-field healing, it comes to light that, to a relieve of everyone, his injury was not caused by an attack. But by an accident when he stepped into a wrong space in the mudded trench and fell by his face into a barbed wire which he was carrying. It was an incident, a stupid one, which scared everyone present in the line as they all immediate imagined a possible attack.

“I am going to keep an eye on Bria, she is drinking with the marksmen,” Amya declares later that day, at the time when night slowly comes when their patrol duty ends and they are allowed to return to the safety of _underground-home_ behind the lines. “Will you be okay here?”

“If you left a small flask of whiskey here, then I would be,” Valkyrie says with a wicked smile on her lips. Amya takes a step back to her field bag and shows to her sister that the flask is _really_ there. “In that case, do not be worried about me.”

“Try not to drink yourself to death,” Amya calls behind her as she is leaving the Healer alone with the whiskey.

Valkyrie isn’t planning on doing that, at least not immediately. Instead of that, she goes through the belongings of hers which are in the field bag on her bed. There isn’t much, only issued letter papers, a pen, lighter, couple packs of cigarettes (for whatever reason they would be of use to any of the witches), a knife and pack of _witch cards,_ which in all honestly Valkyrie see as a stupid joke of the high command of the Witch Army than anything else. But then, there is the only thing of which she really cares – A Spider Web Charm.

It is an item of a time long ancient. From times even America was not even the America, maybe from times when Alder was creating the Accord with the Bay Militia  
One of the charms passed from generation to generation. Protection from nightmares which haunt her often. But, for Valkyrie, the Charm is much more than protection, it is a conduit, of sorts. Valkyrie found this out thanks to her sister Sikya, she was the one to show her that by use of the Seed of Reveal, she can make a _mirror_ off of the Web Charm, and that enables her to see at least a reflection of whom she thinks about.

Now, when she is holding it in her hands while taking a seat on a disgusting bed in almost complete darkness of her underground room, she thinks of two people actually. The first is Sikya, the second one is Louise. She thinks of them both, but somehow, thought of Sikya is stronger and so her face appears in the webs of the Charm. Her short braided hairs, blue eyes and heart-warming smile. That is all Valkyrie needs to see to start sobbing quietly.

“I don’t know how or where to begin properly, dear sister,” she speaks between the sobs. “I have been here for… How long? Two or three months, at most? And I am already of life itself. I cannot take it anymore. The war. The suffering. Death. The desperation. It is too much for me. I am not as strong as Mama or Papa, or you. We have been stuck on this one place, for so long, while other fronts are moving. Slowly but they are. I am afraid that once we advance as they do, I won’t survive it. I am afraid as never before. Goddess once refused me joining you in the Summerlands, but what if She doesn’t refuse this time? I am afraid of that very much.” She inhales deeply. She feels her body shaking slightly. She is getting into slight shell-shock. “I heard your voice. Thanks to you, I have woken up. You, with no doubt, were the one to talk Goddess herself out of accepting me to Her eternal domains. But… I am not sure if you did the right thing.”

Holding the Charm with _a picture_ of her beloved sister on her heart, poor young Healer is crying, unable to stop it.“Valkyrie.” A broken collective voice says. “Please. Do not cry.” There are sadness and heartbreak in the collective voice speaking to her. “It is too early for Goddess to accept you to Her realms.” The young witch looks around with her wet eyes, searching for the shadow of her observer.

A shadow standing at an entrance into the room materializes. French witch walks to Valkyrie and kneels in front of her. “Should I take it as a coincidence that Amya left and you came here?” Valkyrie asks.

“No. It is not a coincidence. I sought out your sister, I asked her to make it possible for me to meet you alone.” Esmeeconfesses. As she planned originally, this was to be a nice conversation, by which she would try to explain herself to Valkyrie. But seeing the beautiful Native Witch. She is fascinated by her stature, by her look, by her everything. She has been fascinated by her ever since she came across her months back when the American Armies arrived in the French ports. There Esmee saw her for the first time, in Calias, on the way to the train, they passed each other, without even realizing it.

“Why did you come? If you sought me out on purpose?” Valkyrie asks.

“I came to apologize to you. I came to explain myself. Why I kissed you, and why I subsequently ran away from you.”She says, with a look what shows nothing but regret, and a need for forgiveness. “First of all, I want to tell you that I didn’t mean to run away. It was not my intention. I panicked, because the kiss I gave you, I wasn’t sure what you thought of me after it. You must think me mad or weird or even worse. I am sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, you know,” Valkyrie says kindly. “This happens, I understand it. Why, though, what made you do it? What made you care so much about a random American Captain, who you don’t know at all?”

“Let’s change that, then,” Esmee suggests. “Let's get to know each other. And see how it goes.” They sit next to each other, Val still with her Charm in hands. “Hi. I am Esmee Ramshorn, Colonel of Second Necro Regiment of _L'armée des_ _S_ _orcières_.” Her right-hand shoots in front of Valkyries.

  
  


“Captain Valkyrie Collar, Captain of the American Witch Army. It is nice to meet you, Colonel Ramshorn,” Valkyrie says, taking her hand. As they do a hand-shake.

“Pleasure is all mine, Captain Collar.” Esmee returns kindness.

Now, they know each other, officially. Now, they can start again, properly, from the beginning. And they do.

After the introduction, they continue in getting closer with each other. Seeing how Val deeply cares about the Charm, Esmee asks her about it. Valkyrie speaks of the absolute history of the item, how she believes it to be as old as the Salem Accord themselves, this little detail purely fascinates French Witch. For her part, Esmees family, and life itself is far darker and sadder than Valkyrie’s.

To Valkyrie’s surprise, and certain sorrow, she finds out that Esmee has been in the army since the age of fifteen, now she is twenty, but to the difference of the American Conscription, the French one is working on absolutely voluntary conscription base. That was the biggest difference between the _Salem Accord_ and the _Bastille Agreement._ But despite the voluntariness of the French, Esmee didn’t join the army because she would feel a patriotic need. She did it because she had no family who would take care of her, she had to always to take care of herself. Her family sold her to a factory because they needed money. She never forgave them, and because of the terrible living conditions in France, she joined the army out of a sheer need for survival.

She joined it at age of fifteen because otherwise, she would not have survived.

While in the army, she found a new family. Meaning in life. A purpose. She found exactly what she never had. That is why she stayed there, why she chose to go higher in the ranks. Because in reality, the army itself was the closest thing she ever had to a family.

When a time to speak came to Valkyrie, she spoke about life in Cession. How life in Cession is hard, how the Council of Chiefs is ruling over the “state”, how the traditions and teachings of the old remain the core of life there. How the people there live in conditions akin to absolute poverty, and they are not free. No witch in America is or ever will be free, because of the very nature of the _Salem Accord_. Valkyrie, as every witch, with the only exception of the lineage of Bellweathers, is forced to serve in the army.

As she gets to talking of her family, and more importantly her sister, she begins to cry again. Holding the Charm on her heart again, she lays on the bed. She is crying. And she knows how embarrassing it is to cry in front of a woman who likes her, and who she subconsciously likes too. But she just cannot help it, crying is the only thing which she can do, whenever she thinks of Sikya, who had been lost to the horrors of war in Texas-Mexican borders.

Valkyrie is tired from the crying and so she already laid in bed. At first, Esmee is sitting at her legs, but then she decided to move. She moves to the behind of Val. She lays behind her at first she keeps her hands at her body, but as hearing Valkyrie’s cries is tearing her heart apart, she hugs the healer from behind.

Valkyrie noticed the gentle touch of the French Necromancer, she doesn’t resist her, she does the exact opposite. She moves closer to her, she wants to feel the grip of hers tighter. Necromancer feels the long hair of the Healer, before she presses her hands onto the Healer’s belly, she does a couple of quick moves and takes off her uniform – Healer notices it and does it too.

Now they are spooning each other, half-naked, under emotional frustration and stress. But they are there. Alone. Together. That is all they both need right now.

Valkyrie turns to face Esmee, she looks at her irresistible blue eyes, touches her short messy brown hair, and is taken to the _Summerlands_ by the warm and sporadic breaths of her. “Will you stay with me? Here? Tonight?” She asks.

“Yes. I will stay.” Esmee breathes out. She now is taken into the _Summerlands_ by the tone of Valkyrie’s voice and her beauty. Because nights in the underground room are cold, they put a duvet over themselves, only their heads are not covered. They press body on body. They feel warm with each other.

Sporadic breathing. Its warmth. Tension. Hands going _blind_ underneath the duvet. Again, sporadic, fast, warm breath. It is filling the small space which now is between the heads of the two young women. They are looking directly into each other's eyes.

Neither of them ever felt like this in a very long time. Such temptation, tension, absurdity, desperation – all of these emotions, feeling, flows through both of them.

Their hands finally stop moving over each other, fragile, bodies. Their slightly shaking hands intertwine.

They move as close as there is no room between them at all.

Their bodies are pressed to each other. Breasts to breasts. Belly to belly. Legs to legs.

What follows between them is a passionate, loving kiss.  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Ps: New chapter of the story comes out every Friday


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.  
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.  
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section.
> 
> And I want to give huge thanks to my corrector and beta-reader @InetaEstera, who is so kind as to spend her free time reading my work.
> 
> Next chapter in two weeks, I have a very busy schedule, and there is not much i can do about it. It is simply how it is.

  
  


Sleeping in a presence of another person was something that Esmee hasn’t done in a very long time. French military worked very differently than the American one. Where Americans saw forced conscription, French saw freedom of choice. Where Americans saw _proper witch culture,_ French saw yet again freedom of expression of that love.

In contrast to American witch five-year term marriages, the French encouraged proper unions based on real love, but they also encouraged to practice polyamory among both the military and civilian witches, it was something that very much defined the _prope_ _r_ _witch culture_ by French standards.

But despite this being a norm, Esmee was never into it. She understood how it is easy to fell in love during Beltane or even Samhain, because even in celebration of death life can come into being, but she never managed to do such a thing – fall in love, properly.

Now, laying in bed with arms wrapped around her waist, she is thinking about how and where this is gonna go, how this _thing_ which she feels towards the young war-broken American _sorcière._ Wide awake, she is thinking, whether the woman who is sleeping soundly next to her has even some kind of feelings towards her, or is she is going to wake up and be frightened of seeing a necromancer in bed with her.

Esmee had not slept much, she was still very much awake when Valkyrie was falling asleep, after their… burst of emotions, sort to speak. After it, Esmee’s whole body was burned up, in a good, best way possible, and watching the blonde girl sleeping is much more interesting than sleeping.

Another reason why she had not slept much, is because she was freaked out by drunk Private Craven and desperate Private Bellweather as they came into the room in the middle of the late night. To say that the Marksmen drank Private Craven would be an understatement, they destroyed her, absolutely destroyed her. Poor girl. Coming from a matrifocal compound and now being surrounded by men – She was deemed to end up like that.

“ _Goddess,” Amya said as she noticed two shadows laying in Valkyrie’s bed. Esmee freaked out, and out of taught practice, she turned herself and Valkyrie into a shadow, just in case. Seeing two shadows laying in one bed, in return freaked Amya out as she had no idea she would see this. “Colonelle... Je n'avais aucune idée que... que vous seriez ici... Je ne voulais pas... vous interrompre. Déesse, je suis désolé.”_

“ _Tout va bien, soldat Bellweather. Rien ne s'est passé. Aide ta soeur, elle a l'air d'en avoir vraiment besoin”_ _Esmee answered_ _after_ _she turned herself and Valkyrie back into material form._ _It_ _was_ _a very awkward thing to happen. Both_ _she and Amya knew it, but neither of them had need or_ _necessity to explain anything to each other._ _Luckily._ _Instead of_ _that,_ _she helped_ _Bria to_ _the bed and_ _when that was done, she laid into her own bed._

“ _Oui madame.” Thus, the awkwardness was avoided and all four witches were able to sleep soundly._

“Good morning,” Valkyrie speaks against Necromancer’s neck.

“How are you feeling?” Esmee asked, lowering her gaze upon the younger woman. “You look beautiful when you are asleep by the way.”

“You were looking at me while I was asleep?” The Healer says, giving a suspicious look. “That is weird. Kind of.”

“But you look so cute when asleep. I could not resist.” Esmee confesses. “And I was not the only one watching you. There is someone else who has been watching us. And she does seem somewhat concerned about seeing me here, sleeping and waking up next to you.”

“Wait what?” Valkyrie asks frightened about who has been watching them. Seeing Amya and Bria sleeping soundly in their beds. “When did these to get back here? How did they?”

“They walked here?” Esmee says matter-of-factly, but with an amused tone. “But the red head, Goddess, she looked destroyed when she same here. It will hurt once she wakes up properly.”

It was the truth, once Bria awoke, her hangover was terrible and she was cursing the decision of accepting the invitation of the marksmen to a drink. The invitation was purely of a friendly kind, the soldiers knew very well that if they would ever try something on Private Craven, whether she was sober or drunk, they would have their asses kicked first by Private Bellweather and then by the court-martial held by General Alder. All of them knew better than to do anything like that. As a matter of fact, they all found out that despite her being an eternal virgin, she is quite a fun person to be around.

At the breakfast, both Amya and Valkyrie gave red-head their assigned packages of coffee, because a lot of good coffee was exactly what she needed. At the breakfast, Valkyrie notices something yet again very unusual for her, the Biddiesseeming… happy, happy and very talkative. She sees General Alder sitting with the French and British Witch Generals and Human Generals. They are all talking, they all seem very happy as they talk together. It is simply an unusual change, from the Alder who she knows from the Fort Salem – the Fort one is always serious, always on edge, this one is not.

“I have heard that they plan on doing an offensive.”

“A big one. I have heard that we will make the front move, to connect with the other fronts.”

“Goddess help us.”

The chatter can be heard among a lot of soldiers, the American, British and overall the colonial soldiers. They speak with a lot of enthusiasm to it. That is absolutely understandable, they have been stuck for such a long time, while others were advancing. If they all are wanting to do a big action finally. Soldiers and Witches both want a proper fight.

After the breakfast, Valkyrie goes to the lazaret, while her sisters are spending time with Knowers and Blaster off duty. Getting dressed to the medical uniform, she notices a Shadow leaning by a corner of the restroom. “Hey you,” the Shadow says.

“Hey,” Val says back to her. “Why didn’t I see you at the breakfast?”

“I am a necromancer Val, despite the Bastille Agreement, the different _types_ of witches are not equal. That is simply how it is. That is why you haven’t seen me there because I and my fellow have a place elsewhere.”

“I understand. I know some Necros from Fort Salem, as a matter of fact, you probably serve with them at the moment. Joined forces and all that.” She thinks quickly. “What you are you doing here anyway, in a lazaret? Are you hurt? Do you need healing?”

“No. No. Don’t worry, I do not need healing. I am going to the underground level. To where all the dead and necrotic are.”

“Weird. And disturbing.” Valkyrie states. “But hot at the same time.” She cannot but to wink at the older witch, she chuckles as that. “Hey, I need to ask you something, what did yesterday mean to you? I just want, need, to know.”

Valkyrie sees how the Shadow moves from side to side, she did not expect to be asked such a question. “Meet me tonight at the northern flag, and I will tell you everything.”

“Alright. I will come.” Valkyrie promises and the Shadow moves away.

As she dresses into the healer’s uniform, she goes to do her duty. It is not as busy as days before, however. The shelling has declined on their intensity, they are not as regular as before, but they are also not as often, which is only for the better. To her surprise, she finds the British Colonel in her wing of lazaret.

“Colonel!” She says as she stays in front of him, saluting. “What are you doing here? Do you need to be healed, again?”

He looks definitely better than at the time when he was laying on the bed, he looks fresher in all ways. “No. No., Captain.” He answers immediately. “I am here for a couple of matters, which luckily have nothing to do with healing. I want mean to thank you for the brave action you did, all on your own.” To that, she merely added that it was thank to him, that she found out about this in the first place. It was stupidity of fate, that Colonel was not able to pass the message on his own as he was hurt during the return. But it also was the luck of fate that Valkyrie was the one to heal him and to find out about the German plan in the first place. “You did an honourable thing, you deserved the promotion, to that I mean to congratulate you. Captain Collar.”

“Thank you very much, Sir.” She says and they shake hands. “And what else are you for? You surely aren’t here waiting for me, to congratulate me on a promotion.”

“Well, there is something else I want to thank you for,” he says with a wide smile on his lips and a flame in his eyes, “that being the fact that thanks to you, I have met miss MacMillan.”

“Well, that is great, Colonel. I do wish you luck with that.” She thinks quickly. “Speaking of which, I guess I should thank you too, because of the vision from you, I have met someone too. So we are even on this line.” Nurse appears next to them, that is the Scottish nurse, miss MacMillan. She greats them both and then but stares at the Colonel, that is the sign for Valkyrie to walk away from them, to give them the privacy, simple to get away as fast as possible.

She gets back to work. To going among the sick and wounded. To healing of all the various injuries the humans might have suffered, witches too. She walks among them, heals them, talks to them, supports them. Exactly the things expected from a Healer. Meanwhile, Amya is attending an off-duty training with some other blasters, while Bria, now absolutely sober and at the peak of her senses is spending time with Scry training, too.

As time passes, there is really less and less for Valkyrie to actually do. Her duty is over, for the day, and yet, she stays at the building. She decided to explore something that she had heard a couple of times during the day.  
Weird and unusual sounds, more like voices, who were speaking in short sentences. Sometimes only a couple of words, she heard. The tone of these voice, or voices may be, was what made the Healer so curious, however. They, or it, were so robust and yet weak, so harsh and yet polite, so loud and yet quiet. It was similar to the voice in which Esmee speaks when she is in her Shadow form, but it was something different at the same time.

She knows from where these sounds come from. From the basement of the building. Where, as Esmee told her, “Everything is dead and necrotic.” And she decided to investigate what is causing them.

She walks slowly and silently down the stairs to the lower level. There isn’t an electric light source, only wooden torches attached to the walls. The main door is made of metal, they are reinforced, to hold something inside, to prevent something from escaping. She is freaked out by that, she doesn’t know what to expect to encounter.

Forces of _Satan?_

_A Demon?_

_An Avatar of Mother Goddess_ _or Horned God_ _?_

Or maybe something different entirely.

Why else would the door be so solid?

She continued on her way. Lead by only the weak light of torches and her ears, she walks as a mouse, though the corridor. More she looks around her, more is she realizing something. Small rooms on both sides, they are not just room, they are cells. Holding cells.  
_But holding cells for the dead, that would be pointless_ , she thinks for herself.  
But whatever is within the cells, it is not dead. But it is not alive either.

After desperate walking almost at the end of the corridor, Valkyrie finally finds the sourse of what she is hearing. One of the last door is open and the voices are coming from the inside. She sneaks to them and looks inside.

There, at the light of a burning out torch, are two male soldiers, they both are from the French Human Army, that much is obvious from two uniforms which are laying in blood, piss and sweat. The men have only underwear on. Both of them are terrible injured, they have cuts, bruises, open wounds, scratches and much more over their bodies. It is a terrific view. Valkyrie got used to many things over a couple of months, but even the things she had seen were nothing in comparison to what she was a witness to now.

The smell of the cell is unbelievable. Blood, piss, sweat, pus… all four smells combined into one terrible odour, which Valkyrie is never going to get out of her system.

She is looking at the men. One is sitting in the corner of the cell with his head down in between knees, while the other is standing straight repeating something. The sitting men is crying, the standing one is repeating a phrase of some sorts, but it is not in English. Maybe in French but it is impossible to say. There is something wrong with the standing man, however, Valkyrie sees a glance of his eyes, there is no iris there, there is only Sclera, nothing else. The man is not dead, but he is not alive either. He is in between.

“Dites-moi pour qui vous travaillez. Qui vous a fait saper l'autorité et le moral de l'armée?” A voice, as a siren, echoes and bounces from a wall to wall of the cell. Valkyrie has no idea what was said, but she knows very well whose the siren voice is of Esmee. Whose multiple shadow-forms are surrounding the men.

Out of nowhere, the shadows fall apart and the Necromancer materializes on the floor. She had lost control of the Seed she was using, which is why they fell apart. And because of the loss of control over herself and her Work, she also had lost control over the standing man. His body, without a warning, fell onto the ground. Heavy body mess meets the floor and cracks come as the head hits the floor. The standing man is dead, now for good.

Esmee stands up properly. She is looking incredible in her uniform and a sword at her side. But the amount of power she had given to the performed _Work_ was immense and now she looks exhausted. The sitting man sees it and he takes advantage of that. He raises up and runs as fast as his gathered strength allows him to. He hits Esmee. Once. Twice. Third time. She is doing her best to block the attacks and back away a couple of steps. When she is far enough, Esmee draws her sword from the side, she makes two quick moves. The man only gasps out before he is lying in a puddle of blood.

With the remaining strength, she says “Mortem ad Veneficas! Diu vivere Camarilla!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.  
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.  
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section.
> 
> And I want to give huge thanks to my corrector and beta-reader @InetaEstera, who is so kind as to spend her free time reading my work.
> 
> Next chapter in two weeks, I have a very busy schedule, and there is not much i can do about it. It is simply how it is.

Valkyrie is in her room.

Alone.

In the darkness.

Thinking.

Too many things are on her mind.

She is thinking of how stupid she was. To think, believe, that the French witch would actually be serious about, whatever, it is, or rather might be between them. How stupid of her was to even to consider such a thing. Because, that, of course, is not how a witch culture is, ever.

Finding love? That was hard already.

Finding love in hands of another woman? Unthinkable, unacceptable.

Finding this as a witch, with another witch? Impossible, without a question.

She did it once, fall in love with a woman, with a witch, and how did that play out? Rumours came, not about their relationship, but about something much, much worse, then her lover paid the price for it. Valkyrie never found out whether they were true or not, but nevertheless, her lover was sent to her death. War in Alaska has been waged ever since shortly after its purchase by the States from the Russian Empire. The war has been like no other, at first it was regular warfare, but it changed quickly. Now it is not an open conflict, it is guerilla warfare. Rebels are hiding among their countrymen, they are invincible, hidden, only striking when the time is right. They have been fighting since year 1868\. An entire generation has been born and has died in this fight, and many more will follow. And Valkyrie knows that her lover is not fighting the rebels there, and she will not get from there alive. That is what military, both Human and Witch, is using Alaska for – Penal armies are sent there, expected to die during the endless battles. That is what is going happen, if it already had not, to Valkyrie’s, now former, lover.

T he other thing,  which has been on her mind ever since she literally  ran away from the lazaret’ s basement ,  was  about  whatever it was she saw  and heard in the dungeon.  The image of Esmee  controlling one of the men, subsequently killing the other one,  words of the other one.  _Camarilla_ .  _The Ancient Enemy_ .  The  _Ones_ who have been eradicated.  However, Valkyrie knows what she heard earlier, the man said the word, the only word she understood really. There was no mistaking about that.   
She was raised on stories of Camarilla, for her,  they  never were  anything more of a tale told to little witches if they did not sing their songs before bed. It were just stories, nothing more.   
At least, should have been.

She is walking around her room nervously. From one place to another. If directly under her foot is another room, then its inhabitants are going be very angry for her stomping loudly and heavily for a long period of time.

“ _Goddess what should I do now? I don’t know what to think of this. Was it real? If it was, what should I do with this information? Did yet another pretty girl take advantage of foolish me? How do I know if I am being used or not?”_

She speaks to herself, and to the Spider Web Charms which she once again holds in her hand. This time, there is only the web, not a picture of anyone. She uses the Charms as an item of stress release, and it really works for her.

She stands in front of her bed, looking at how perfectly done it is. She is thinking, once again.

Now about whether to go and meet Esmee or not. The night has come, and she is in the room still. Her _sisters_ are not here with her when they came from whatever they were doing, Valkyrie was very stressed about everything, and by accident shouted them out. They didn’t want to make things worse and so they left her alone, once again. She did not want that to happen, she didn’t want to be alone, but she had no time to explain anything to them as they went away as fast as possible.

The dilemma is terrible for her. But for her own sake, and an opportunity to shout her bottled emotions out onto a woman, who had used her vulnerability, for her own goal of _charging_ herself in order to interrogation two _prisoners of war_. Valkyrie definitely needed to beat the shit out of the woman who took advantage of her. For that reason, she decided to go to meet her.

Once she adjusts her looks to be at least somewhat decent looking, she walks out of her room and climbs to the surface. The early night has befallen the land above, giving the place a chilling atmosphere. Valkyrie walks quietly through the alleys of the camp, straight towards the northern flag of the medical building. In the air, there this scent of piss, blood, open wounds and disinfection – the kind of scent, which at first was absolutely disgusting to Valkyrie, but she had gotten used to it rather quickly as she moves in it almost every day. Luckily, it is not raining, as it normally did during the nights; the fronts are calmer once again, that is the reason why there is no rain, the fighting is calm, for some reason.

On the way to the meeting point, she is doing her best not to turn away and walk back to the room, to sleep. And if she had not noticed waving Esmee, she would have turned back. She would have gone back, letting the French girl wonder what had happened. She would have done so if Esmee was not waving.

“You came. I was worried you might not.” Esmee, as always in her blue uniform, says with a wide smile truthfully, and tone rightfully so. She approaches Valkyrie slowly, calmly taking her hand but the Healer doesn’t let her do so and back away slightly. “Is everything alright?” She asks, watching nervous Healer.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Please, just don’t,” Valkyrie declares. “You know what, I made a mistake, I should have not come.” Esmee grabs her hand in desperation. “Let me go!” She shouts loud and clear, and Esmee stares at her absolutely confused.

“No! I won’t!” She shouts as much loudly and clearly as the Healer did before. “Not until you tell me what is going on.”

“You are!”

“Me?” Esmee narrows her eyes at the woman in front of her. “What did I do?”

“What you did? You fucking used me. You! Used! Me!” Valkyrie shouts. Tears falling down her face.

“What?” Esmee says. Looking at crying Healer. “No. I did not use you. Why, for Goddess, would you think such a thing.”

“Because you used the _charge_ of our night to torture and interrogate two prisoners, two soldiers of your own fucking country! And you used me for that. You fucking bitch! But what else should I expect! All witches are the same. Everyone follows this fucking _proper witch culture_. I was so fucking stupid to think there was something different about you. I. Was. Wrong.” Valkyrie is shouting hysterically, the emotions are rampant both within herself and the skies above her where a storm is gathering.

Esmee walks towards Valkyrie. She is looking directly into blondes blue eyes. She grabs the younger woman tightly but not strong enough to hurt her in any way around her shoulders. “It was not like that, Valkyrie. Do you hear me? It was not like that. I did not use you, I never would. Please you have to believe me.” She feels blonde’s body shaking in her arms, the younger woman is in furious but also an absolutely fragile state of both mind and spirit. Esmee is not sure what do to, how to make the woman in her arms calmer instead of angrier, how to make her see the truth instead of her imaginary lie.

Yes! The truth.

The truth of how Esmee really feels towards the blonde Healer. The truth of how she saw her for the first time months ago when she and the detachment of Ten Thousand arrived to this area of the Western Front. How she stood only a couple of metres from her, when Valkyrie spoke of how stupid and stupidly cynical the French _frog-eaters_ are. How she had noticed her gorgeous figure, pretty face, and those irresistible blue eyes, while the Healer had not even the slightest idea that she was there at all.   
That day, Valkyrie did not notice Esmee at all; She, however, saw only the young American Healer that day.

“Why the fuck should I believe you?” Valkyrie asks, struggling to get out of other witch’s grip. Valkyrie moves her hands onto Esmee’s and by all her strength she pushes her forwards. She pushes the older woman onto the flagstaff in front of which she was standing until that moment. The French woman does not resist the Healer, because she doesn’t want to make things worse. If she is to get yelled at in order to make everything clear between themselves.   
She lets herself be pushed against the flagstaff, she lets herself be completely powerless in the hands of the younger woman.   
That deep she had managed to fall already

Esmee feels the harsh impact of her back into the metal structure. She feels the very cold metal on her back. At the same times, she feels a tight grip on her shoulders, as well as the warm breath of the angry, no furious, witch in front of her. She is watching the furious woman in front of her, while at the back of her _dirty_ mind things are happening. She is imagining the Healer as an actual Valkyrie, _a_ _chooser of the slai_ _n,_ the one who decided who continues in battle and who dies; That is how she saw Valkyrie when she was flying over the _no man’s land_ , casting her Work onto the enemy, bringing _Storm and Fury_ to them. She was her hero for what she did there.

The Necro ducks her head slightly, with her eyes she measures the Healer from bottom to the top; Her beautifully made body, a body of a perfect woman, body which despite being _damaged_ by months spent on the front is holding together, strong breasts which she can _see_ in her mind perfectly despite them being hidden under the tight uniform. She slowly looks up, meeting Healer’s eyes. There is pure anger in them. But it is there because of a misunderstanding, a terrible one. A stupid one. A reasonable one, though.

To Healers’s surprise, Esmee gathers all her strength and makes a quick, strong move forward. Valkyrie may be driven by a will of _revenge_ onto her, but her emotions are unstable and rampant, as well as she is. That is not a case of the Necromancer, however, she is steady, her mind is clear, more or less anyway, and to the difference to the Healer, she is driven by a desire, an emotion which is controllable, to some extend.

Moving from the metal flagstaff onto her in a matter of a second or two, Esmee leaves Valkyrie to only gasp in surprise and a panic. She raises her hands, wrapping them around Valkyrie's body. Now Esmee’s hands are around Valkyrie’s waist, while Valkyrie’s hands are around Esmee’s shoulders but going slowly to her neck. Necro uses her strength to make them both fall, which happens and they find themselves laying on the ground. Without thinking, Esmee moves her head to bottomed Healer, kissing her without a second thought. Then she speaks against younger woman’s neck. “Because. I know that you were there, in the underground cells.” She tasks a breath, in the intense of the moment kisses gasping Healer again, and continues. “I know you heard what the one said. You know it too.”

“The Camarilla!” Valkyrie cries out as the older woman is kissing her on the neck.

“Yes!” Esmee confirms.

“But. But how?” Valkyrie questions. “Not possible. They are gone. They are a fairy tale, nothing more. They are destroyed. You are mistaken.”

Esmee raises her head once more to face the younger woman, and with full seriousness, she says, “I wish I was Valkyrie.”

After that, they do not speak for some time, they give themselves fully to the _physical_ _activities_ of them being together. It delivers exactly what Esmee hoped for, a relax and an easy of mind for Valkyrie, both of them really. As they give themselves to each other, in both literal and metaphorical sense, emotions of both of them go into all sides. In the middle of their furious kissing session, bottomed Valkyrie notices light turned on in a couple of the rooms of the building in front of which they are. She sees figures which in the distance look to be nurses who are watching them. “We are being watched Esmee,” she says to the woman above her.

“Goddess,” Esmee breaths out in frustration. Shaking her head so her short messy hair flies to all directions, she moves her mouth to Valkyrie’s ear, “Okay, let me take you somewhere, there we can continue, in private.” With that said she stands up from the bottomed woman. Taking her hand, she helps her up and together they leave the ground in front of a lazaret building.

Esmee takes her to the necro _buildin_ _g_ , which as Valkyrie find out is built within a massive blockhouse fortification structure built away from the main area of the _camp_. The building is standing alone in the land, surrounded by nothing, with a clear long distance view to all possible sides. They enter it through a bunker building at the surface. The entrance metal door is opened from the inside by two women who are standing there at attention immediately as they see Esmee, they don’t even look at Valkyrie. Both women continue though the surface building, which is more claustrophobic than Valkyrie wants it to be. As they walk through the corridors, she sees a lot of soldiers present in many of rooms on the surface level. The women are sitting in a circle either on the ground or on the couple of chairs which they have at their disposal and they are playing cards, chatting or writing letters home.

Esmee leads the Healer through the corridors, not paying attention to the women in the small rooms around them. They walk into a middle section of the building, where is spiral stairs are leading deeper into the ground. Stepping onto the stairs first, Esmee sees that Valkyrie is standing in the entrance, frozen. “Val?” she asks with a worried voice.

“I just don’t like tight places, and the stair look very tighter the deeper they go,” Valkyrie explains immediately, closing her eyes and taking a quick breath.

Esmee takes her hand, making Healer opener her eyes once more. “Hey, hold my hand and come, just a bit deeper and we will be on the first living quarters level, my room is there.” She reassures her.

Valkyrie complies and holding Necromancer’s hand, she lets herself to be at mercy of the French woman.

They walk the stairs rather fast, finding themselves in a surprising spacious corridor which has metal doors at both sides lined up. Esmee leads the Healer to the door in the middle of the corridor. Only when the Healer is inside the room, she breaths out.   
She looks around the room, it is much, much bigger than a room she shares with Bria and Amya. There are two shelves by the right wall from the door, on the left side there is a table with an oil lamp on it and also a stack of paper. Surprisingly enough, the only source of light inside the one oil lamp on the table.

Esmee leads Valkyrie to the bed by the wall. They sit down, still holding hands. Sitting as close to each other that there is almost no space between them, Esmee moves towards the Healer, intending on kissing her, but the blonde backs away quickly.

“Wait. Wait,” She says fast, “we have to talk. About everything.”

“Yes,” Esmee says in a low voice, she is feeling utterly embarrassed. “Let’s talk then.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.  
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.  
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section.
> 
> And I want to give huge thanks to my corrector and beta-reader @InetaEstera, who is so kind as to spend her free time reading my work.
> 
> Next chapter... I don't know when. To be completely clear with you all, this was the last chapter I wrote before falling into rather severe depression. Things are not very good at the moment, and despite me having a complete plan for all of my book, both this fanfic and my original work, I am simply not capable of writing anything. I do not have the mood, courage, and motivation to write. 
> 
> I really wanna finish this story, because I believe it is worth telling, but it is gonna be a very long journey, so please, stick with me. I know you must be very annoyed by me taking such longs breaks in between the chapters but I just can't you know? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you will like the chapter and that you will leave some comments about what you like, don't like, or maybe what you would like to see happen in the story, simply your general ideas and opinions. I am open to any critique and your feedback is always highly appreciated.

  
  


“So you are telling me that the General of your Witch Army is in fact _immortal_ , just as Alder is?” Valkyrie asks trying her best to keep up a serious expression.

The conversation between the two women has been going on for some time now. At first, it was about the whole _basement-situation_. Esmee was trying to explain to Valkyrie how she had gotten to this kind of information in the first place. It was hard to convince Valkyrie that the Ancient Enemy was not as dead as she was always told them to be.

“ _Have you heard of the witch trials in_ _England_ _after the 19_ _th_ _century?_ _”_ _Esmee asked the blonde, handing her a notebook_ _named_ _H_ _ostium_ _I_ _ntra -_ _Enemy Within -_ _for a lack of a better word, it was a_ _Camarilla_ _handbook_ _on finding Witches,_ _written_ _in the late 19_ _th_ _century. “_ _Look at the_ _notebook._ _It has information in it,_ _used by ‘_ _T_ _hem’_ _to_ _identify, track, and kill us._ _It was written in Scotland,_ _and ever since used as the prime_ _textbook material for Camarilla_ _._ _The_ _information,_ _it is exact, detailed, and_ _correct to the slightest._ _Incredible._ _Terr_ _i_ _f_ _y_ _ing._ _But fascinating at the same time.”_

 _Valkyrie took the_ _book and began to go through its pages._ _There were_ _descriptions of_ _witch-marks,_ _pre_ _cise_ _drawings of_ _vocal cords,_ _categories of different Works._ _Even_ _some of the matrilines,_ _from all around the world_ _._ _Collars were there too,_ _even the_ _pre-Collars,_ _the ancient Native ones_ _._ _It was all there._

“ _Fucking hell,_ _”_ _Valkyrie breathed out_ _placing, the book on a table. “_ _Fuck,_ _Fuck. Fuck._ _”_ _She stare_ _d_ _onto a_ _n empty wall with only a few weird mushrooms growing from it._ _How is it possible that_ _the Camarilla has this at its disposal, and where did Esmee obtain it?_ _Valkyrie ha_ _d_ _no idea_ _of it._ _But it scare_ _d_ _her to a bone. “_ _Where did you take this? Was it from the soldiers you had_ _in the dungeon?_ _”_

“ _No._ _It is not from them._ _This one, I have been carrying for a very, very long time,_ _”_ _the French woman answered, and seeing blonde’s confused look, she began to explain properly. “_ _Do you remember how I told you that I was sold to_ _the factory?_ _Well, the owner,_ _he was a human but he had_ _a relationship with a witch,_ _and they de facto became my second parents._ _They loved me, and I loved them._ _Aliénor was even teaching me all kinds of Work._ _I was like a daughter to them._ _”_ _Esmee looked at Valkyrie with_ _sadness on her face.”_ _The factory was more of_ _a safe place for those in need_ _and a factory._ _All that ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’_ _asked_ _everyone, who wanted the asylum, was to work for it._ _And we did work, all of us –_ _Hu_ _mans and_ _W_ _itches alike_ _\- worked, because it was fair for everyone.”_ _She paused for a second_ _as she could not hold the crying any longer._ _Wiping the tears away, she continued._ _“_ _And then,_ _one_ _night_ _,_ _the factory was stormed by_ _group of_ _people._ _They_ _rushed in,_ _wearing masks_ _and_ _weapons on them._ _None of us could do anything,_ _there was so many of them._ _T_ _hey_ _placed_ _witch_ _’s bridle onto_ _our heads_ _,_ _then they,_ _rounded_ _us all up_ _and began to check for the_ _witch marks._ _Those who_ _did_ _not_ _have them_ _were free to go,_ _except for the Father._ _They called him a traitor to his kind_ _._ _They began to kill_ _the witches by slitting their throats, one by on_ _e._ _Mother and I were at the opposite side, we were to watch others die,_ _and Father was to watch us._ _But they_ _somehow didn’t_ _enclose_ _Mother’s bridle enough_ _and so she was able to use the Seed Sounds._ _She took them by surprise_ _as she_ _summoned plague rats_ _from the shadows,_ _then she quickly_ _turned me and herself into a shadow_ _and in the created chaos, she freed me and managed to get a knife._ _But her moment of surprise did not last long;_ _she began to attack and killed a couple of them_ _as they were fighting not only her but also a swarm of plague rats._ _She ran on a man_ _and_ _pulled the knife deep into his chest,_ _but managed to_ _shoot her in the shock._ _Other men turned in their direction,_ _firing_ _everything they had at_ _Mother,_ _the_ _captured witches, and Father._ _Then it happened”_

 _V_ _alkyrie_ _w_ _rapped_ _her companion in a tight, comforting hug,_ _rubbing her back slowly_ _. “_ _What happened?_ _”_ _She asked_ _slowly,_ _carefull_ _y._

“ _I was in shock._ _I was watching Mother and Father, and everyone around me, falling on the ground,_ _dying_ _,_ _”_ _Valkyrie said, “and in that shock, I_ _ran to Mother, I took the knife and held it pointed at the men in front of me._ _I_ _began to scream_ _out of the shock_ _,_ _and the scream released a Song._ _I_ _n a split of a second,_ _there was a countless number of my shadow-copies_ _and they attacked the_ _attacker_ _s_ _._ _It was a bloodbath,_ _the_ _y_ _were_ _stabbing_ _the attackers_ _with the knife I was holding,_ _without thinking or mercy_ _._ _H_ _umans were defenseless against them._ _N_ _one of them survived._ _When everyone was dead, the_ _shad_ _o_ _w_ _s_ _disappeared as fast as they appeared._ _I ran to Mother and Father, but there were dead._ _I_ _was still in shock, and as I was about to_ _run away from the building, I saw the_ _book, laying_ _in a_ _pond of blood as it fell out of a coat of someone._ _I took it_ _and ran away,_ _calling for anyone to help me._ _Couple of streets away,_ _I ran into a_ _n officer o_ _f_ _Paris_ _Witch garrison,_ _they_ _luckily took me seriously_ _and a mastered_ _unit_ _went to the factory._ _They_ _di_ _scovered_ _the_ _slaughtered_ _factory_ _and a day later_ _I was in Versailles_ _in front of_ _Marquis de La-._ _I mean_ _General_ André Portier. _”_

But the immediate correction would not fool the blonde witch, however. She narrows her eyes at and asks the older woman if the French Witch General posses any kind of power as General Alder does. That is how they got to the conversation about immorality.

“So, it is the truth then,” Valkyrie says, watching the older witch moving to a bed onto which she sits. Esmee raises her eyes towards the blonde, they are expressing fear. Fear of uncovering the most important secrets of all. “Come on, who would you think I am going to tell?”

Valkyrie has a good point. Who would she tell? Why would she? If Esmee had not said it, Valkyrie would have no idea of this, though she was wondering why the French Witch General always has the two men at his side. Now it makes sense, there is some Work connecting them together. But it is not the same as Alder has, as both the bodyguards are perfectly young, as well as is the General. There is a different kind of Work there, the one unknown to Valkyrie.

“You are right,”Esmee says, chuckling to herself, “I am sorry. Being careful like, that is one of the terrible habits of mine.”

“It is okay. Don’t apologize, I used to be like that myself.” Valkyrie assured the french girl next to her.

“I would have never guessed,” Esmee laughs. “Alright, alright.. you blonde devil, I will tell you, but you cannot tell anyone else. Understood?.” She continues in a lowered voice “During the Revolutionary War, Marquis de Lafayette, stood alongside General Alder. He posed as major-general of Human armies of both French and American forces, but his inner circle was formed by witches of pure blood. He learned a great deal from Alder actually, for example, in a way thanks to Alder’s Accords, we have our _Declaration of Rights_. During the Revolutionary War Lafayette led a rather huge number of troops comprised of Oneida Indians, but during the battle of Brandywine, he was badly hurt and it was believed that he might not survive. Now, Shamans of the tribe selected two of their best warriors and they used _Work to merge_ their souls altogether. It worked and he and the two warriors became immortal. In their own, terrifying way.”

“Goddess!” Valkyrie is left staring at the older woman. She is left to think, get through, and process all the received information. She stares at Esmee for some time but when her mind is on its place, well sort of at least, she finally speaks to her companion. “That is… incredible, really incredible. My mother knows some people from the Oneida tribe, they are of the better social status in the Cession. But I had no idea that they did this for Marquis. And merging souls? I mean, that is crazy. But it explains a lot.”

With the _mystery_ of the General young appearance solved, somewhat, they continue talking about it for some time. Valkyrie finds out that General Lafayette is a _foster father_ to Esmee, in the same way as General Alder is a _mother_ to children who are raised in Fort Salem. It is fascinating information for Valkyrie.  
Furthermore, Esmee shares how upon her first Camarilla encounter in life, she began to educate herself on the matter, and in a short time, around a year or so, she became one of a few _experts_ on Camarilla in the entirety of French Witch military. She was always alongside Marquis, meeting with the most important people – rulers, generals, statesmen, all of them. She was always presented as the daughter of the French Witch, and it was a perfect cover for her, because who – witches – who know that Marquis is immortal, knew very well that men like him always come to contact with a lot of women… and things simply happen.  
This allowed Esmee to learn the arts of warfare, diplomacy, and _Work_ from the best of the best. It allowed her to know the people and the world. And all that so she can be the one to hunt down the Camarilla, who had taken those who she loved from her. In a way, she was on a path of revenge, but a very complicated one.

But now, things got very complicated, in a way Esmee would have not, and did not, imagine.  
She always had been a lone-wolf, always taking care of herself by herself, helping others only for having a logical gain from it as well. This approach to both life and people was, is, not selfish of her, it is understandable and reasonable because it had proven useful very often to her.  
Now, this approach is falling apart, and all that because of one blonde American witch.

For Valkyrie, the whole situation is equally complicated and confusing on many fronts. She feels broken inside, the terrible result of seeing too much already at such a young age. To say that Valkyrie is messed up, would be an understatement, she is emotionally broken. And despite the older woman sharing her past with her, piece by piece, Valkyrie is very distanced from close emotional to the older woman. After all, she fell into a _love-on-first-sight_ trap once, and she had not yet recovered from it. She doesn’t want to repeat the same mistake, nor she wants to pay the terrible price which would surely come with this mistake.

“Why did you recommend me to a promotion to the _Front-Council?_ ” Valkyrie asks carefully, hoping that starting the conversation like this will lead to her finding out where exactly they stand in their little _relationship_ situation.

“Well,” Esmee starts, looking at the blonde who is watching her with an innocence look, which resembles a child waiting for an explanation from their teacher, “I was on a recon mission with other Necros, when I saw a woman flying above us all. With her hair moving sporadically in all directions, voice roaring as the mightiest and fearful of beasts, she looked like a figure of myths. Angel of death incarnate. And then this _Angel_ fell from the sky and I watching the fragile body hitting the ground. And she fell right in front of me. When I was carrying you from the battlefield, I was left wordless for what selfless bravery you showed. I have never seen a seen something like that, such a strength in the use of Work, such a fury used to destroy the enemy, such bravery showed by a sole witch who wanted to save her fellow sisters by a price of her very own life. Such behavior is rare among people. Among soldiers, it should be rewarded properly.”

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Valkyrie confesses shyly, ducking her head so she doesn’t have to look into the eyes of the older woman.

Esmee however merely chuckles. Touching Healer’s chin, she makes the blonde lookup. “Thank you would be enough,” she whispers before kissing her.

“Thank you, Colonel Ramshorn,” Valkyrie says, returning the kiss.

“Goddess, you are such a model soldier,” Necro signs in faked frustration. “No. Ranks. When. We. Are. Alone.” She speaks fast, in between the gasps as they kiss each other.

Esmee uses her strength to lie on top of bottomed Valkyrie. The blonde Healer has no power, nor the will to resist the French woman, and so she simply lies on the bed, her body is taking to the _realm of Goddess_ , her mind drifting between an image of the woman above her and the _Goddesses realm_.

In the morning, Valkyrie wakes up from a beautiful but terrifying dream. A dream in which she stands with Esmee on the top of something, a structure, called _a_ _tower_ _of Eiffel_. They are watching the city under them from the highest of spots on the tower, and at the time they are there – at dusk - it is unforgettable for Valkyrie. And then, out of nowhere when she turns her look from the city’s horizon, she sees her lover falling over the edge of the structure. The last thing she hears is herself screaming.  
She wakes up fast, finding out that she is all sweaty, because of the adrenaline. Immediately, she looks at the left side, checking that the Necro is sleeping next to her. She is indeed, safe and sound. Valkyrie signs in relief, and smiles to herself, but is thinking of the dream nevertheless. After a couple of seconds she realizes how cold it, in reality, is in the underground room, she turns her body on the side from Esmee, legs moving tighter to her body to make herself warmer. Closing her eyes to sleep again, she feels hands touching her hips, connecting on her naked belly.

“Are you cold?” Esmee asks, still asleep. Valkyrie hums silently in agreement, which makes Esmee press herself onto her. “In that case, I will make you warmer.”

“I have heard something about an offensive, do you know something about it?” She asks the woman behind her.

“Yes. It will happen in one week.”

“I am afraid, Esmee.”

“Don’t be. We will be alright,” Esmee assures her lover. “Sleep now, it is early yet. I will tell you everything tomorrow.”

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter is here.  
> Anyways, reads, Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated so keep it up.  
> Feel free to share what you think of my work in the comment section.
> 
> And I want to give huge thanks to my corrector and beta-reader @InetaEstera, who is so kind as to spend her free time reading my work.
> 
> Next chapter... I don't know when. To be completely clear with you all, this was the last chapter I wrote before falling into rather severe depression. Things are not very good at the moment, and despite me having a complete plan for all of my book, both this fanfic and my original work, I am simply not capable of writing anything. I do not have the mood, courage, and motivation to write.
> 
> I really wanna finish this story, because I believe it is worth telling, but it is gonna be a very long journey, so please, stick with me. I know you must be very annoyed by me taking such longs breaks in between the chapters but I just can't you know?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you will like the chapter and that you will leave some comments about what you like, don't like, or maybe what you would like to see happen in the story, simply your general ideas and opinions. I am open to any critique and your feedback is always highly appreciated.

_Even though Esmee told her to go back to sleep, for Valkyrie it was easier said than done. The dream was something which kept her sleepless, she had to think about it. Why would the two of them be standing on that ‘Tower of Eiffel,’ whatever the structure was to be? And more importantly, who or what would be there to cause the brunette to fall off it?  
Was it all just a bad dream?  
Or maybe the kind of foresight which from time to time happened to witches of Cession, an ancestry gift from the witches of ancient Native American tribes._

_Despite having a girl wrapped around her tightly, thus giving her all the needed comfort, Valkyrie was unable to fall asleep. Because whenever she closed her eyes and actually fell asleep, her mind was filled with frightening images; Soldiers being eaten by the yellow gas, witches dying in endless rain of bullets, humans dying in a bombardment, people losing their mind, and most importantly, there was the final image of her and Esmee standing on the Tower and Esmee falling down._

_A couple of time, she woke up because of her mind playing this wicked game with her, each time she had to turn her head to a brunette next to her and to touch her hand gently, in order to make sure the woman is physically there with her and thus she is really awake._

At the morning, when Valkyrie is properly awake, after the small amount of an actual sleep she had, the French witch wants to talk to her about the dreams which she was having. Esmee wants to help, any way possible, she can, but the blonde plans not to share the dream of the tower with her, not before she finds out what it means. After getting up from the bed, they kiss and begin to dress, they both have a lot of things to do.

Esmee has to check the Necros under her command for any possible intel for the offensive taking place in two weeks.  
And Valkyrie has Healer’s duties to attend to, but before that, reporting to her sisters about her whereabouts so she escapes possible court-martial for desertion.

After a goodbye kiss, they go together to the surface of the bunker structure and back to the camp. There they separate, both going about their daily business, and watching the French woman walking towards the lazaret building, she is let to wonder, once more, if she had really managed to fall in love with the older woman, or if it is all just a temporary thing. After all, first time when she fell in love, the love was _sealed_ by Beltane, but this time she had already missed Beltane so she really cannot be sure about anything.

The first surprise came to Valkyrie when she got to her room. What she found there was Amya sitting on a bed, next to a completely bald person, to whom she was laughing. Valkyrie walks to the room in silence, observing who the bold person is to be.

The bold person is wearing a navy blue uniform and a scourge on her waist. “Goddess! Bria, is that you?” She asks immediately and Amya is unable to keep herself from laughing out loud.

“Shut your mouth, Amya! Pray to the Goddess that you don’t get them too. Bloody hell,” Bria cried out desperately, placing both hands onto her bold head. She raises her eyes towards the blonde and speaks, in order to explain everything to the confused woman. “Do you remember how we spoke of the giant rats in the trenches?” she waits for the blonde to nod, then she continues, “Well, it turned out that they have gone from the front lines to our, marksmen’s, positions as well. And we, with the marksmen usual lay there, in the mud and crap, for hours, meanwhile, the rats are moving all around us. And they carry all kinds of things with them, and on them.”

“Like louse and fleas?” Valkyrie asks, to make sure that she is getting things right, though, from the sight of things, she is getting it very right. “And you are telling me that you got louse? And fleas?” The now-bold-redhead nods.

“Why else you think I would be fucking bold, what do you think? Goddess, if you of all people would not mock me!”Bria is shouting again. She is not angry or anything like that, she is just desperate because of the way she looks now. For Bria, prestigious hair are the same as to a Bellweather is their history of service or as for a Collar was the good and humble reputation through-out the Cession. And now, now this prestigious hair, the most notable thing about a Craven, is gone. And poor Bria is sad, and desperate because of it.

“Hey, hey, don’t get angry at me.”Valkyrie defends herself. “I didn’t do a thing. I was not even here in the first place.”

“That is right, she wasn’t,” Amya says, smirking at Valkyrie mischievously. “Humour us, Captain, where were you since last night until this morning.” Bellweather's grin is bigger and bigger, that makes Valkyrie both uncomfortable and unwilling to talk about her night.

“First, why you have to pull a rank on me? Private Bellweather,” Valkyrie says back. “Second, what of a business is it to you anyway?”

“Oh, so she can fight?” Amya says, amused as hell. “Well then, dear Valkyrie, I was there during your first proper Beltane, was I not? So you owe me the truth about where and with who you were.”

A s she finish es the sentence,  she sees  completely  pale woman  in front of her.  Valkyrie was staring at the  emptiness of the  wal l. Not paying attention to anyone or anything.  She was stiff,  every nerve in her body was on alert. She could feel it.  And in her mind,  there were images playing, like in a movie,  except for the  _speech cards_ .  The played images  were until that moment hidden deep within Valkyrie’s mind,  so deep that she had forgotten about them, more or less, but they were not forgotten anymore.  They were on the surface now.  Proving their presence and the cruel impact on her once more.  And there was nothing  that the young witch  could  do against them.

The image is crystal clear.

She was in Fort Salem.  
At first during Beltane, in middle of a power dance, with a partner whom the reel had chosen for her, Louise Alvarado, a Spanish-American witch of a rather famous matriline. Louise was older than Valkyrie by almost three years, she was the second grade in War College, the best of her class, from the unit which was about to set a new score for all the young witches. To Beltane, she had gone rather unwillingly, only after being convinced by her unit-mates. And it was the best thing she could have done. As she was getting herself though the gathered crowds of witches as the reel was beginning, she saw _a stranded bird_ amidst them all. This stranded bird was standing by a small table, simply drinking a glass of whiskey.   
The elder witch came to the _stranded bird_ , she took a stand by her, taking a glass of her own, lowering her eyes carefully to the young blonde woman.  
“I have not seen you here around,” Louise said carefully, spooking the blonde a bit. “Hey, don’t worry, I am not a bad guy.”  
Valkyrie looked at the woman next to her. She was slim, a lot taller than her, with shoulder-long black hair, chestnut brown eyes, and the most beautiful smile Valkyrie had ever seen. She scanned the woman from head to toes, noticing the insignias on woman’s shoulders – a _major_ she was. “Major. Ma’am!” Valkyrie said immediately, positioning into attention at once. “I am new, Private Valkyrie Collar, ma’am.”  
Louise merely smiled at here. _Newcomers, they are all the same, at least in this,_ she thought to herself. “At ease, Private. I am not here to inspect your behaviour. I am here for festivities. Go on, take that glass. Drink with me, will you?”  
“Yes, ma’am. I would love to have a drink with you,” she said straight away. Only after the words left her mouth, realising what of an enthusiastic tone she used in a present of a superior officer. Luckily, Louise waved it off, explaining that it was the power of Beltane which was making the young woman behave in such _unrestricted_ manner. They continued talking for some time, about themselves, their lives, about the Fort Salem, history of their kind, and Beltane too. Their talking was long, never stopping and full of interesting points and topic, they were enjoying each others company greatly.  
It was not one drink, but a lot of them. It was not but a mere chat, but hours-long conversation. It were not the powers of Beltane and Reel, but something more which sparked between the two. And before they knew it, they were no longer standing by the small table, but rather in the middle of a gathered crowd, dancing a slow dance in an embrace. They were dancing slowly, melodically, in the embrace, and there was no one else in the world but them, neither of them saw anything else but each other.  
Beltane, and maybe even fate, had brought them together, and it was the most beautiful thing they both had ever experienced.

Then, the vision darkened. Everything was covered in an all-consuming void. The atmosphere, the beauty, Beltane gardens of the Fort… it all disappeared.  
Instead, Valkyrie was now standing in the office of General Alder. She was surrounded by the Biddies, the General herself and two sergeants from the Military Police were standing in front of her. And in between herself and the General, there was a woman in chains. Beaten, dirty, smelly... broken woman it was. Her bones were not healed properly, the Healers didn’t finish their job on her. A flame of life in her eyes was gone. Her happiness in a mere look… gone. _Louise_ _Alvarado_ _was gone._ What was in front of Valkyrie was an empty shell of a woman she loved.  
“Private Collar,” General Alder, in her prestigious posture, “I presume you were briefed and you understand with what charges is here present Major Alvarado accused of and what punishment is for such commitment of said crimes”.  
“Yes, General, I understand,” Valkyrie says quickly so that she can break down after finishing the sentence, not during it. As she is silent again, she can hear the slow, melodic breath of her lover, broken lover. She looks at the woman, her legs are shaking, she is so weak that she is hardly keeping herself standing. “But, General,” Valkyrie takes a deep breath, sucking all the tears inside her body, “I do not understand why I was summoned here, if the sentence has already been decided, by You.”  
“You are here to say goodbye to her. It was her last wish. She will be deployed tomorrow,” Alder said, cold as ever. “I will leave you alone now.” With that, she, her Biddies and two Military Police sergeants left the room, leaving the two women alone.

Finally, the woman in chains raised her eyes to the Healer in front of her. She did her best to smile, at least a little. “I asked them so many times to let me see you, one more, last, time. At least I was granted this.”  
The young healer couldn’t hold herself anymore, walked to the chained women and hugged her tightly. “Tell me that it isn’t truth. That you didn’t try to steal the deployment files. Please, tell me that they are wrong. I beg you. If you are innocent they will let you go, they will let you live. If you don’ they will kill you. Please! I need you!” Valkyrie cried on Louise’s shoulder. The older woman hugged her tightly, giving comfort to her lover, as well as herself.  
“Oh, baby,” Louise said quietly and slowly. “I cannot deny something if I had done it.”  
“But you have to. Please!” Valkyrie urged but the older woman kept on refusing her. “You will die there. If they send you to Alaska, you will not come back.”  
“Maybe it is what I deserve. For what I did. Death was always waiting for me.” She said plainly. “All I wanted was to see you one last time, and that happened, I am willing to accept whatever comes tomorrow. But now, let us only be the two of us. Do you remember the Beltane? When we met?”  
“How could I forget that? It was the most beautiful day in my life. How did you call me when we first met?”  
“ _A little stranded bird_ ,” both of them said in unison, they quietly laughed to it together.  
“Thank you for loving me,” Louise said, “you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I thank Goddess for you every day, and I always will. No matter what happens with me in the future, always remember, my _little stranded bird_ , that I love you with all my heart.”  
“I love you too,” Valkyrie whispered.  
The door of the General’s room opened and two women from the Military Police marched in. “Time is up, Major Alvarado,” one of them announced.  
“Please, don’t go,” Valkyrie tried again in desperation, holding her lover’s hands tightly.  
“You have to let me go, Valkyrie. Pray for me, and send me letters. I will do the same for you. That is all I want, can you do that for me?” Valkyrie nodded in silence, tears were falling down her face and she was unable to stop them. Louise placed her hand on Valkyrie’s cheek, then she separated from the younger woman, giving herself to the Military Police. “I accept my fate,” she announced to them, having herself led out of the room.  
Valkyrie was left behind, crying and shouting desperately, but no answer was given to her, nor did anyone care about her emotions. She was watching her lover being taken away, unable to do anything about it.

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie! HEY!” A voice is screaming at her. “Fucking hell. Amya! Should I cut you with a fucking scourge right now or after she comes back from this delirium? How many, fucking times, have I told you do not speak of the past Beltane?”

“I fucking know, Bria!” The witch shouts at her. “But we spoke of Beltane some time back, and nothing happened to her. She was totally fine and she had a great time talking about it. Why had _this_ happened now?”

“Because the trigger is the _LAST_ Beltane! Goddess! I will go and get some of the Healers, she needs someone to talk to, stay with her!”

“NO!” Valkyrie shouts, instinctively grabbing Bria by hand. “Don’t go anywhere. I am alright.”

“You definitively are not, Val. Please, let us get someone who will help.” Amya said, there was a real concern in her voice.

“Just hug me, please. That is all I need right now.” Under normal circumstances, there would be a cocky comment by Amya about what Valkyrie really needed, but she did not do it, not this time. Instead, she pulled her sister into a tight hug, not letting go off of her, Bria joined them in a split of a second. Like that, in the middle of the _room_ , in a tight hug, they stand there for some time, until they are interrupted by a loud knocking on their door.

Before any of them is able to say simple ‘enter’ the person on the other side opens and walks in without an invitation. A senior officer of the American Witch Army walks in the usual military manner. The woman is wearing a decorated uniform, with insignias of the high ranking officers, and she is carrying bunch of letters in her hands. “Captain Collar, Private Bellweather and Private Craven,” she says, “You have received letters from home.” She hands them letters and walks out of the room in silence.

Both Amya and Bria are looking at their letters with excitement, but Valkyrie is not feeling so. She holds the two letters in her hands, which begin to shake as soon as she takes a proper look onto the first letter. There is a seal in the shape of a pentagram, with a skull in it. The seal on it tells it all.

It is a letter from Louise, from the fronts of Alaska.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

> If you want to be updated on update of this story or find out what other things I do, follow me on  
> Instagram: @DanielHorcic_wattpad  
> Or  
> On Twitter: @danielhorcic
> 
> Ps: New chapter of the story comes out every Friday

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [More steam to "Horrors and Beauties of War"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266416) by [InetaEstera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InetaEstera/pseuds/InetaEstera)




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